Younger Than Stars
by KLMeri
Summary: Jim never thought he would fall in love this way but he hardly minded. Remembering that he loved, and was loved, kept him sane. At least, he hoped so - until his rescue came. McKirk, pre-K/S/M, S/Mc. - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title** : Younger than Stars (1/?)  
 **Author** : klmeri  
 **Fandom** : Star Trek TOS  
 **Pairing** : Kirk/McCoy, pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
 **Summary** : Jim never thought he would fall in love this way but he hardly minded. Remembering that he loved, and was loved, kept him sane. At least, he hoped so - until his rescue came.  
 **A/N** : It occurred to me that I've never tackled a McKirk TOS story, not from the perspective that Jim and Leonard are already together. Here's one, then.

* * *

With his mouth flat and his forehead creased, Bones looked terribly stressed. As of late, Jim had imagined pressing his thumb against that crease and smoothing it out. Once, unthinking, he had raised his hand but Bones had looked up and caught him before his thumb managed to make contact. Quickly Jim had drawn his fingers through his hair, hoping to give the impression there had been no intention to touch the man at all, but his friend's mouth had just quirked in response. Any pretense was moot.

That, he would decide later, was the moment of change for them. Nothing so dramatic or complicated, just one person reaching out to another—and an acknowledgement, albeit unspoken, that the offer would have been accepted.

* * *

"What would drive a man to change a habit he's had since childhood?" Leonard McCoy pondered this question while leaning against the headboard of his captain's bed.

Separated from the bedroom by a waist-high partition, Jim sat at his terminal console, relaxed in a chair, focused on the screen. His reply was absent-minded. "You'd have more of a clue than I would."

Leonard sipped from a glass in his hand. "Why do you say that, Jim-boy?"

"I'm not certified in psychology."

"Neither am I," Leonard countered, amused. "I only have a degree, not the service hours."

"Sounds good."

"Are you even listening?"

"Uh-huh."

Leonard set his drink on a nightstand and walked into the adjoining cabin. He stood behind Kirk and laid his hands on the man's shoulders. "What do I have do," he leaned down to drawl against an ear, "to keep your attention?"

Jim's fingers had frozen above the console. His eyes flicked over to McCoy's mirror image on the computer screen. "You have it now."

Leonard smiled and drew back. "Never mind."

Jim's hands came down hard on his desk and he twisted around to face Leonard as Leonard stepped away from his chair.

The doctor locked his hands loosely behind his back in a parody of parade rest.

"I was doing work."

Leonard cocked an eyebrow. "So go back to work, Jim."

Jim's eyes grew hooded. "Bones..."

Leonard rose up on the balls of his feet slightly before dropping down again. "I won't distract you anymore," he promised.

"No chance of that, mister," Jim said, gaze raking over him, "unless you decide to put your pants back on."

"You're one to talk," Leonard shot back.

Jim snorted and stood up, palms out, fingers spread. "You win. No more paperwork tonight. I'll even take the blame when my yeoman shows up tomorrow and discovers he has nothing to collect."

"Good," Leonard said, meaning it. "Now about that question I had..."

He returned to the bedroom with Kirk on his heels.

* * *

James Kirk approached the lead engineer overseeing the activity in the shuttle bay and said, "Report, Lieutenant."

The engineer came to attention immediately. "Hello, Captain!" He waved a hand at other crewmen bustling about. "We'll be ready to go soon—ETA, less than an hour, sir. Loading the emergency landing equipment now, then we're set to run through the checklist."

Jim nodded and took a data padd the young man handed to him. "Then the items requested by the Ambassador must be onboard."

The engineer blinked. "Er... some of them?"

Jim looked up sharply. "Come again?"

The young man hesitated. "Didn't you receive our status update?" He explained quickly, "We had to adjust the quantities so the shuttle wouldn't be overloaded."

Inwardly, Jim cursed. That had been next in his queue before...

The engineer cleared his throat. "Mr. Spock sent his approval this morning."

"Oh, very good," Jim said, much relieved, then muttered an excuse of "Busy night" more awkwardly, having to re-read a line of the release form twice after an image of a naked McCoy sprawled over his bedroom pillows came to mind, only to be superimposed by the stern face of his Vulcan First Officer, who was no doubt waiting for the right moment to address why the mission's status update had not been answered in a timely manner.

"I can see you've done an excellent job here, Hughes. Where do I sign?"

The crewman glowed at the praise and happily scrolled to the bottom of the lengthy form for Jim. "Right here, Captain."

The sound of a familiar voice cut through the din of the bay. "Jim, do you have a minute?"

Jim signed the release form with the trademark scratches of his initials and handed the padd back to Lt. Hughes, who seemed to understand this was the appropriate time to disappear.

Jim turned to McCoy. "Morning, Bones. I see you've opted to come down here before your first cup of coffee. What's so important?" He didn't wait for a reply, leading the way to an alcove in the bay where neither of them would be in the way of those preparing the shuttlecraft.

Leonard folded his arms and jumped right to what was on his mind, as was typical of him. "You didn't give me an answer last night."

Suddenly Jim was glad he had made the choice to keep this conversation away from listening ears. He shifted on his feet. "Bones, this isn't the place to—"

Leonard just continued to look at him, and Jim wisely didn't finish his statement, just sighed through his nose instead.

"I didn't know what to say."

"How about the truth?"

"Bones."

"Jim."

They stared at each other for a moment longer.

Then Jim reached out and wrapped a hand around the other man's bicep. "At our next dinner. You'll have my answer then."

The doctor's stance relaxed somewhat. "Fine, I'll wait—but only because I think you know you'd be a fool to break a promise to me."

"Never," Jim said. He gave Leonard's arm a squeeze before letting him go. "Come to the Bridge later."

Leonard sniffed and stepped out of the alcove. "Don't know why you need me up there."

"I could put in a request for fresh coffee."

Leonard cut a sideways glance at him. "Depends."

"Brewed, not replicated," conceded Kirk.

McCoy smiled. "See you on the Bridge then, Captain."

Jim watched the man walk away until the doors of the bay hid him from sight. Their decision to become lovers was hardly recent but there were still moments when Jim felt as if he was discovering his affection for McCoy all over again. In a way, he hoped that feeling never changed. It reminded him why he had accepted the risk that came with having a relationship outside of duty.

The lead engineer re-appeared, bringing an end to Jim's preoccupation. "Sir, the Ambassador wants to talk to you. She has some concerns."

 _Wonderful_ , Jim thought wryly. Ambassador Leta had been voicing her 'concerns' ever since they picked up her from Starbase V. It had been a trying week, in his opinion.

Jim clapped a hand to the young man's shoulder. "Then we should listen to them—for the last time."

Hughes snorted.

Jim swallowed a laugh and followed his subordinate across the bay.

Time to focus on work again.

* * *

Leonard walked onto the Bridge, stopped short, and frowned. He asked Uhura, "Where's Jim?"

Across the platform, a hunched figure at the Science station straightened up and turned around. "Captain Kirk has been delayed by a conversation with Ambassador Leta."

Leonard stared at the Vulcan for a long minute, unable to decide if he should point out that he had asked Uhura, not _Spock_ , or ask for more details.

Spock broke the silence by saying, "Why are you here, Doctor?"

The question wasn't phrased like any of Spock's usual polite forms of inquiry. Leonard's hackles started to rise, but he reminded himself Spock had the right to ask as the second-in-command on the Bridge, and nothing would be gained by lashing out. He kept his tone mild as he replied, "I was invited."

Spock kept staring at him.

"By Kirk," Leonard added, his temper pricked again. Had Spock always been surrounded by this oppressive air of judgment? Or had Leonard only begun to notice it since he became involved with Jim?

That thought bothered him, just as another thought did, the idea that Spock knew about them.

He backed towards the turbolift, saying briefly, "Please tell the Captain I stopped by."

Spock's gaze stayed on him until the lift door closed tight.

Finally free of the relentless scrutiny, Leonard leaned against the back wall of the lift and sighed, feeling like he had just barely skirted a dangerously thin layer of ice.

This was why he wanted an answer from Jim. They had to consider what to do about Spock before tensions reached the point of eclipsing their ability to work together. He didn't want that to happen, honestly hadn't thought Spock would figure out, let alone care, what he and Kirk did outside of ship's business.

 _Of all the things to be wrong about,_ Leonard thought with a shake of his head.

The lift deposited him on the deck with the cafeteria. He retrieved a cup of coffee from a replicator and drank it slowly, disappointed that it wasn't what Jim had promised him.

One of his staff members paged him on the way out of the cafeteria, and so he pushed his personal problems aside for the time being as he headed towards Medical to do his job.

* * *

"You're coming with me, Kirk."

It was more of a statement than a question but Jim remained polite. "I intended to accompany you, yes."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "I can never tell when you're lying."

"Because I've yet to lie to you," Jim snapped.

Her sour expression lightened. "That wasn't an insult, Captain Kirk."

It had sounded like one. He turned away. "Do we have anything left to discuss?"

"No, I think not."

"Excellent." Jim strode for the exit of his guest's quarters, but paused there. "You have made a point of antagonizing me since we met, Leta. Why?"

The woman smiled, albeit thinly, at him. "An old habit, I suppose. I had wondered what kind of man you would be."

Jim caught himself waiting for her to her to continue and drew back his shoulders. "What I am is someone weary of arguing. Our departure for Tassos III remains on schedule. An officer will arrive shortly to escort you to the shuttle bay."

"Then there is no need to offer a goodbye, Captain."

Jim pressed his mouth into a line. Somehow Leta always managed to come away as the victor of their verbal clashes and, at this point, he decided he didn't have the desire or energy to try to win what would hopefully be their last one. He offered a clipped nod and moved into the corridor.

As far as he was concerned, the end to this mission couldn't arrive fast enough.

* * *

Warning lights surrounding the activated docking pad glanced off the shiny hull of the shuttlecraft, creating a scattering of color throughout the bay. Two figures standing close together were cast in the yellowish light, engaged in quiet discussion.

"I will reiterate my statement, Captain. You are not required to accompany the Ambassador on her rendezvous."

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "Duly noted, Commander, but I won't change my mind."

Spock studied him for a moment. "Then you have a... personal reason, sir?"

"Not personal, Spock. I think of it as completing my escort duties."

The Vulcan opened his mouth, but Jim raised his hand to stall the next argument. He didn't need to be reminded _again_ that there was sufficient personnel to see Leta on her way. When the Enterprise received an assignment to escort any official, the safety of their passage was his responsibility, to the extent that it did feel personal. But he couldn't say that to Spock because Spock, who felt personally responsibility for _his_ safety, would simply turn that explanation into a way to invite himself along on the shuttle ride.

And that's not where Jim needed him the most. "Mind the store for me," Kirk told his second-in-command. "We can celebrate the Ambassador's departure when I get back."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "Celebrate, Captain?"

"That's what you do after you've endured a very difficult task."

Spock looked like he would have made a comment about that if not for the voice which cut in abruptly to their conversation.

"Jim!" McCoy called again, crossing the bay towards them at a hurried pace.

Spock's countenance resumed its usual stoicism, but it was the look in Spock's eyes which arrested Jim.

"Spock," he started to say, concerned, reaching out to his friend.

Bones reached them and grabbed the back of his arm in that instant, growling, "Jim, you didn't tell me you were going with the Ambassador!"

Spock took a step back and gave them both a carefully disinterested inclination of his head. "I must return to the Bridge. We will monitor your course to Tassos III."

"Commander," Jim said before Spock moved too far away, "we should talk when I return."

"Acknowledged," murmured the Vulcan without turning back. He exited the bay swiftly.

The man beside Kirk hissed, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jim pulled Leonard's hand off his arm. "Bones," he said, suddenly uncertain, "I think Spock..."

Leonard quieted, whatever he wanted to fuss about forgotten. He turned Kirk toward him and, after searching Jim's face, said slowly, "You saw it too, then. Spock hates me."

Jim shook his head. "It wasn't hatred, Bones. It was fury." Jim had only seen the Vulcan that coldly furious once before.

Apparently Leonard recalled that memory too, for he paled. After a few seconds of nervous swallowing, the man said, "Well, I'm not sure that makes me feel better."

Jim shook his head again. "No. It just doesn't make sense. What would he be so upset with you about?"

Leonard sighed. "Now that answer is obvious."

It wasn't obvious to Jim.

"Us—us, Jim."

"Us...?" Jim's mouth clicked shut as his stomach turned. _Spock knew?_

"You know," Leonard went on to say, more subdued, "I think I've changed my mind. You should go on this trip."

"Why?" Kirk asked cautiously.

Leonard looked uncomfortable. "To clear the air with Spock."

Jim tensed. "What does that mean?"

Leonard lowered his gaze. "Means I ought to find out just how deep that fury runs." He raised his head up again, quirking his mouth slightly. "If I'm in the brig when you get back, I expect you to rescue me."

Jim couldn't think of anything to say. He understood what Bones was offering to do. Touching the other man's shoulder briefly, he simply nodded his gratitude.

They broke apart.

"See you," Leonard murmured, watching him.

"We'll fix this," swore Jim. "We have to."

"I know. Be safe," the doctor added as a group of people assembled in front of the shuttlecraft. He moved out of their way but didn't leave, just stood to the side, still watching.

Jim knew Bones wouldn't walk away until the techs called for all personnel to vacate the dock. He put his back to his lover and blew out a breath, deeply troubled. He didn't feel good about leaving Bones behind to deal with Spock, but he had already committed the next two days to the woman presently beckoning him to her side. Duty called, literally.

They boarded the shuttle together. Jim seated himself in the pilot's chair, and Leta chose the seat behind him. Soon enough, everyone else was situated, the hatches were secured, and he and the co-pilot cleared the protocol for lift-off. The shuttle made its way free of the ship with textbook flawlessness, and the void of space swallowed them up.

Briefly Jim switched the main viewer for a backwards glance and watched the Enterprise shrink in the distance to a tiny silver star. When that star finally winked out, Kirk transferred the viewer forward again, resuming the business of manning his station in silence. He felt the shuttle walls humming with impulse power. Auto-pilot took over. Nothing occurred on the console to alarm him.

Why, then, he did feel as if he had breached a point of no return? Was it because of the uncertainty he left behind?

Behind him, Ambassador Leta kept her eyes firmly shut but gave the order, "Notify me when we're within sight of the colony."

"Of course, Ambassador," agreed the co-pilot.

Jim realized then, despite the company of his shuttle crew, he was more alone than ever.

 **TBC**


	2. Part Two

The shuttle coasted smoothly to the landing pad, the world below growing larger and larger until buildings turned from puddles reflecting the sky to oval-shaped domes. The tiny figures clustered together, awaiting the shuttle, gained colors of grey, blue, and brown.

"Good job," Jim congratulated his co-pilot once they were safely grounded.

"Thank you, Captain."

Jim clapped the young man on the shoulder as he stood up. "Come along, now's the opportunity to stretch our legs."

His voice carried to the back of the vessel, and everyone began unhooking their seatbelts—except for their honored guest. The Ambassador sat with her arms crossed, her expression as displeased as it had been the first time Jim had met her.

"We've arrived," Jim reminded her. "We're disembarking."

"Contrary to what you believe, Captain Kirk, I do not take orders from you."

 _What had upset the woman now?_

Jim swallowed a sigh. "At your leisure then, Ambassador." He brushed past her, anxious for a look at Tassos III.

The shuttle hatch seal hissed with the cabin's pressure release, and Jim had made his way to the door by the time it slid back to reveal the outside world. His inclination was to be the first man out the door, but a little voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like Bones prompted him to step aside and allow the two security officers to disembark ahead of him. He jumped down next and breathed in the fresh air, taking stock of what he saw.

At the edge of the pad, he greeted the men standing below. "I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise." He lifted a hand to indicate the others filing out of the shuttle. "I am accompanied by my crew. We have brought Ambassador Leta for her scheduled rendezvous."

The same shadow flickered across the men's faces, gone before it had hardly formed. Not one of them moved, came forward to return the greeting; they just stood with arms hanging loosely at their sides, expressions empty.

Jim felt a red alert at the back of his neck and thought, _Something's very wrong here._

But before he could assess the situation further, a man wearing a pair of antique spectacles came hurrying out of a small dome opposite the landing pad. His ruddy face spoke of sudden embarrassment rather than exertion but his manner was rather affable as he called out, "Ambassador! Ambassador, how wonderful to see you again!" He murmured something to one of the men as he passed them, and the man nodded, gave a jerk of his chin that had the rest of the group retreating back to the dome.

Leta ignored Kirk as she strode for the staircase. "Mr. Tappan," she said, "the pleasure is all mine." She took the hand Tappan offered her and allowed him to escort her down the steps. "Shall we talk inside?" Jim heard her say as the pair walked away.

"Captain?" one of his security officers said once it became obvious they had been abandoned on the landing pad.

Jim made a quick decision, one that he hadn't expected would be necessary. "I want two of you to remain with the shuttle. Inform the Enterprise we have arrived at our destination, then report to me _and_ the ship on the hour." He turned around, saw that his crewmen looked as troubled as he felt. "You are all seasoned. You know to treat this situation with care. We should only be here overnight but stay alert."

They all nodded in understanding. One of the lieutenants retrieved communicators from inside the shuttle and passed them out. Jim clipped one to his belt and ordered his security officers to carry phasers as well. There was a possibility they might offend the locals—and Leta, no doubt—by arming themselves, but Jim would rather explain himself later than take the chance of being caught unprepared.

As he led two of his team toward the dome in which everyone had disappeared, he resolved to find out what made him feel uneasy about this place.

* * *

Leonard had stayed in Sickbay as long as he could, glancing every-so-often at the chronometer until he was certain there would be news.

But no news was delivered to him.

Leonard left Sickbay then, ranting in his head about inconsiderate Vulcans who should know by now to keep him updated on all things Jim. It was with relish that he stomped onto the Bridge looking for Spock. Yet the moment he started to descend the upper platform, Spock casually rose from the Captain's chair and meandered the long way around to the Science station.

Leonard refused to take the hint and doggedly followed him. He leaned over Spock's shoulder after the Vulcan sat down and said, "Any word on Jim?"

"The shuttle made a successful landing on the colony's surface thirty-one minutes ago."

Leonard waited for the rest but when Spock stayed stubbornly silent, he pressed, "And? Is Jim all right?"

Spock turned his chair around, his stare cool. "Are you inquiring as his physician, Dr. McCoy, or as his _friend?_ "

For a second, Leonard saw red. He immediately took a step back because it meant he couldn't physically reach Spock to thrash him in case of another insensitive remark. "I'm asking because I have the right to ask, Mr. Spock," he snapped, not bothering to hide the hurt he felt. He thought he glimpsed a hint of regret in Spock's eyes before he added, "Both as the Captain's CMO _and_ his friend."

Spock's expression turned to stone. "I see," was the flat response. The commander put his back to McCoy again.

Leonard imagined wringing that scrawny neck from behind and had to stick his hands into his armpits to make certain he didn't act on the impulse. That time in the brig might come faster than he or Jim anticipated. They were hurtling towards disaster at break-neck speed and it was now or never to stop it.

"Spock," he said.

Spock operated various instruments on the console without acknowledging his name.

" _Mr. Spock_ ," Leonard said again, sharper this time, causing one or two of the other people on the Bridge to jump slightly in their seats.

Spock's hands paused in their work. "Yes, Doctor?"

"The Ready Room," he ordered, turning on his heel and marching away. He didn't bother to check if the Vulcan was following him. At this point, Spock would realize he didn't have a choice.

* * *

Leta and Tappan ceased their conversation when Kirk entered the main hall. The interior was sparsely decorated but had enough seating that the open room must be used as the gathering place for the colonists.

Tappan blinked, then seemed to realize he had forgotten about the second half of the landing party, and jumped from his seat. He grabbed Jim's hand and pumped it twice.

"Captain, Captain, my sincerest apologies! I am Augustus Tappan." He adjusted his glasses and peered at the man and woman behind Kirk. "Won't you be seated? I'll have the cook bring refreshments. I apologize in advance: our kitchen staff is small, our fare usually simple. We are, after all, hardly more than a community of farmers." He laughed briefly and nodded at another person in the room, who slipped out.

"James Kirk. Nice to meet you, Mr. Tappan. We don't require anything elaborate. Water for me and my crew would welcome."

Jim took a seat opposite Leta, who turned her face from him as if the sight of him irritated her.

Tappan eased back into his seat. He took Leta's hand in his own, a gesture that spoke of affection. "Is this all of your crew, Captain?"

After a moment's hesitation, Leta reclaimed her hand.

Jim murmured to himself, "Fascinating," as Spock surely would have, and made a point of pretending not to notice that Leta had turned a fierce glare upon him. "No. There is docking protocol to follow, supplies to be checked. The Ambassador added some personal items to our cargo, and I imagine she would be displeased if we took off tomorrow with them still on board."

Tappan's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Of course."

"You will have them brought to me immediately," Leta demanded, "and if I find that anything was damaged—"

" _Karen_ ," her companion admonished.

Leta's mouth formed an unhappy line but she didn't finish her threat.

 _Fascinating, indeed_ , thought Jim. Leta and Tappan obviously knew each other very well, intimately if their body language was any indication.

Well, who was he to judge mixing business and pleasure?

That brought McCoy to mind, and Jim had to clear his throat. "Ambassador," he said, "I won't interrupt your time with Mr. Tappan." He addressed their host. "I would like to take a look around. This is my first visit to the Tassos system."

Tappan smiled. "Certainly, Captain." Just then, a frowning man wearing a dirty apron came through a side door with a tray. "But why not have that cup of water before you go? The afternoon sun can sneak up on you here."

Jim accepted one of the small cups with thanks and drank from it.

* * *

The tension between them was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Neither Spock nor McCoy had spoken since the door closed them off from the Bridge, and they stood almost as far away from each other as they could get in the small area that served as their captain's Ready Room.

Leonard honestly didn't know how to handle Spock when he was like this, and it was clear Spock had no intention of helping him figure it out.

In the end, he said the first thing that came to mind. "If my interest in Jim was going to be a problem, you should have said something right from the beginning."

"Why should I speak of a matter which clearly is not my concern?"

Leonard's temper flared. "Because you're acting like a spiteful adolescent!"

A muscle in Spock's cheek twitched. "I will not stand here and be insulted, Dr. McCoy. If you have nothing constructive or useful to say, I shall return to the Bridge." He added, "I _am_ in command of this vessel in the Captain's absence," as though Leonard needed the reminder.

He leveled his finger at Spock. "Maybe you shouldn't be!"

"Enough. To argue over a fact is pointless."

"Well here is a fact for you, Spock... You're emotionally compromised!"

Spock came at him so swiftly, Leonard almost couldn't track the movement. Leonard had backed up against a table on instinct, and now Spock nearly had him pinned against it.

"That is an accusation you should not make again," Spock said in a voice much softer—and deadlier—than usual.

There was a ruthlessness about Spock that Leonard had hoped never to see in him or to experience again. It set his heart to pounding, but he managed to keep his voice steady as he insisted, "There's something wrong with you."

The Vulcan leaned in slightly, nostrils flaring, before he suddenly drew back, restoring the personal space between them.

Leonard watched Spock fight an internal battle for control and waited, frozen, for the outcome. His hands refused to let go of the table's edge.

A long minute of silence passed. Then Spock said, "I apologize."

Leonard convinced his hands to release the table and nervously rubbed his palms against his pants. "I guess you can't deny that I have a point."

"No."

"Want to talk about it?"

Spock answered flatly, "I will answer your questions during the psychological examination."

Leonard blew out a breath and hoped he wasn't going to regret what he was about to say. "I'm not relieving you of duty, Spock."

Spock responded more slowly, a sign that he was surprised. "I almost... attacked you, Doctor. I have acted as no officer, no Vulcan, should. Why would you..."

"Forgive you?" Leonard finished when Spock trailed off. He sighed aloud and stepped away from the table. "Because it's my fault."

Spock's eyebrows drew together. "That is illogical."

"Not a bit illogical," Leonard retorted without any real heat. "I provoked you on purpose."

"Yes, in an attempt to—"

" _Spock_ ," the doctor cut in, "hush up and listen to me, would you?" He waited a second and, when Spock didn't continue, said, "I don't fully understand why you're upset, but I know it's because of me. Anybody can tell, which goes to show just how _strong_ your animosity has become, and how close to the surface it is despite you trying to hide it."

Spock said nothing.

Leonard pleaded, "What did I do, Spock? What did I do to make you hate me so much that you can't stand to talk to me?"

"I do not feel hatred."

"You feel _something!_ " he nearly shouted.

That something flared in Spock's eyes. "If this is another attempt to antagonize me, you will not succeed."

"Damn it," cursed the doctor, "I'm not out to get you, you pointy-eared hobgoblin! I'm trying to help you!"

"You would be most helpful by keeping your distance," Spock replied and pivoted away.

Leonard didn't think, just reacted, a reckless decision which he would later blame on his close association with a man named James Kirk. As Spock strode for the exit, Leonard leapt after him, caught him by the arm and tried to plant his feet to halt the Vulcan's forward momentum. There was no way in hell he was letting Spock shelve their conversation indefinitely!

But he misjudged Spock's true strength, for the Vulcan jerked his elbow at the unexpected contact, clipping Leonard across the chest. Leonard overbalanced backwards, and it was just pure bad luck that his forehead caught the side of a hard plastic chair as he went down. The chair tipped over too.

"Oh hell," he groaned, immediately clapping a hand to the wound.

Spock had gone down on his knees next to him. "Doctor," Spock was saying, alarmed, "have you injured yourself?" His hands kept moving close to Leonard's face then retreating in uncertainty.

"Just dandy," grumbled Leonard. He pulled his hand back from his forehead and stared at the blood on his palm. "Help me up."

Spock grabbed his shoulders to lift him.

The door to the room slid open in that moment, outlining Sulu in the doorway with several worried faces behind him.

"Doctor McCoy, Mr. Spock!—is everything—"

They must have been a sight because poor Sulu stopped talking and paled.

It took Leonard a second too long to realize _exactly_ how the scene would have looked: him, bleeding, and Spock frozen above him, as if caught in the middle of a violent reaction—or worse.

They had seen Spock brush him off in the last few weeks. Prior to the crash that brought them running to investigate, they had witnessed the mounting tension between Spock and McCoy come to a head, had to have been speculating among themselves what kind of stand-off was happening in the Ready Room. He and Spock had never been the best of friends and on occasion had been very vocal enemies.

It wouldn't take a stretch of the imagination to picture a horrific showdown.

Sulu regained his composure quickly and moved into the room. He ordered in a tone as unyielding as it was regretful, "Commander, release him and move away."

"Wait a minute," Leonard started to protest.

Spock let go of his shoulders and stood up. Leonard watched him glance at the other officers pushing into the room—a shocked Uhura, wide-eyed Kelso, Jim's frightened yeoman. Then Spock said in the calmest voice Leonard had ever heard from him, "You may place me under arrest now, Mr. Sulu."

The silence in the room was deafening.

Stunned, Leonard could only think to say the Vulcan's name.

The look Sulu gave Leonard was pitying. "Uhura," he said, "call Security."

* * *

"Captain, what if they poisoned us?"

Jim shook his head slightly as he and his officers cut across the grounds. "Not likely, Lieutenant. With Joran and Garrison in the shuttle, they can hail the ship at the first sign of trouble."

The officer on Jim's right adopted a look of thoughtful consideration. "Meaning, Tappan was trying to find out if he had an advantage... or an opportunity to neutralize us."

"At the moment, we're only speculating," Jim pointed out. "The endgame is to lift off tomorrow without trouble, so let's not go looking for it."

"Then what would you call what we're doing right now?" quipped the young man on Jim's left, and the second officer failed to cover up a snort of amusement.

Jim decided to let the joke (and the high-five behind his back) slide. He was too jaded by McCoy's daily insubordination and Spock's dry wit to be offended.

But maybe it wasn't proper that he was smiling. Quickly, he rubbed the smile away with the back of his hand and reminded his two team members, "Don't drop your guard."

"Yes, sir!" they chorused.

Jim steered his group toward a tall circular building that looked like a grain silo. A first step, he decided, in the investigation would be to see what kind of crops this colony grew.

* * *

The voice of the man standing outside the brig cell held a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "Help ma boab, what's happened? Mr. Spock?" he questioned before turning to the person sharing the bench with the tight-lipped, straight-backed Vulcan. " _Dr. McCoy?_ "

"He's not supposed to be in there," explained Giotto, the Chief of Security, looking nonplussed by the situation, "but he snuck in when my men turned their backs and refused to come out."

Mr. Scott shook his head slowly, still at the point of trying to believe that the pair was in the ship's brig.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." Nurse Christine Chapel bustled past the two red-shirted officers and said to the man standing guard by a control panel, "Lower the field."

"Not you too!" exclaimed Scotty.

"Hardly," retorted Chapel. She adopted a no-nonsense tone. "Dr. McCoy needs medical attention—which he would have received by now if he had been escorted to Sickbay."

"We're just Security, ma'am," Giotto replied. "Not his keepers."

McCoy, who had been alternating his glare between his silent brig companion and Giotto, lowered his gaze meekly when Chapel entered the cell and plunked a medkit onto the bench.

"I can't believe you," the nurse hissed in his ear as she bent close to inspect his head wound with gloved hands. "Only an idiot locks himself up with the person who assaulted him."

"It's not like that," Leonard insisted. He raised his voice to carry to the others. "Spock didn't attack me!"

"Not what he said," countered the Chief of Security, indicating Spock with a lift of his chin.

Leonard harrumphed. "Anybody who knows anything about Vulcans can read between the lines. He didn't say _specifically_ that he hurt me!"

"Specifics or not, any potential threat to this ship or its crew must be contained, Dr. McCoy."

Spock broke his silence. "That is correct."

Leonard kicked out, sadly not able to bridge the full span of the bench so his boot could connect with Spock's shin. "You're about as threatening as I am!"

Chapel poked her patient in the chest. "Stop moving, Leonard," she warned him, positioning a hand-held regenerator against the sluggishly bleeding cut, "or I'll sedate you and have you hauled out of here."

Leonard tucked his limbs back against his body.

Chapel muttered a few more things about Leonard that he chose to ignore.

"What a fine mess this is," decided Scotty. "I give up. I'll be on the Bridge." He paused in walking away to ask Spock, "Any orders, sir?"

"None, Mr. Scott. You are now in command of the Enterprise."

Scotty simply shook his head again and left. Giotto followed him soon thereafter.

Chapel removed the regenerator. "This is the best I can do, Leonard. I would also say signs indicate you don't have additional head trauma, but your behavior points to the contrary."

"I know what I'm doing, Christine."

She straightened and gave him a serious look. "I hope so."

After packing up her medkit, Chapel walked over to Spock, leaned toward him and whispered something. Leonard suspected it was along the lines of _The sooner you give in, the sooner Dr. McCoy goes to Medical for proper treatment._ Then she too was gone, leaving just Spock and McCoy in the brig and a single guard by the door.

Leonard pursed his mouth and stared at his cellmate. "All you had to say was 'Dr. McCoy fell and hit his head.' What's the point in letting them believe you pushed me?"

Spock said nothing.

He tried again. "Do you _want_ to stay in the brig until Jim comes back?"

Still, Spock said nothing.

Sighing, Leonard leaned against the wall and touched a finger to the new skin stretched taut over where his cut had been. "I wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours, Spock," he said.

"Even I am not certain," admitted the Vulcan quietly.

Leonard glanced at him. "That's a first." Then he sat up as he considered something and turned to Spock with concern. "It's... not due to some biological event you haven't told me about, is it?"

The morose air surrounding the Vulcan seemed to dissipate as Spock turned his head to observe the doctor. One of his eyebrows lifted. "Biological event, Dr. McCoy?"

Leonard made a face. "Like that... pon fur."

"Pon farr."

"Yeah, that." He added anxiously, "I need to know if you're on another course to self-destruct. Don't even think about keeping me in the dark this time." Muttering, he patted his belt. "Should've thought to bring my tricorder. Stupid, McCoy, stupid."

"You are a strange individual."

Leonard huffed. "I'm just worried about you. Imagine that."

Spock removed his hands from his knees and clasped them in his lap. "I regret my actions."

Any residual anger Leonard might have had disappeared. "I'm sorry too."

"I shall never understand why you insist on apologizing when you are not at fault."

And just like that, they were on even ground again.

Leonard scooted a little closer to Spock. "Does this mean if I ask you a personal question, you won't explode on me?"

"Highly unlikely, Dr. McCoy, as Vulcans do not combust."

"Hobgoblin," grumped Leonard, his good humor restored. "This is a serious inquiry, so pay attention."

"Please, make your point."

"What don't you like about my relationship with Jim?"

Spock's silence only lasted for a few seconds. "I would not say I dislike it."

"Spock, if ever there was a need for you to be straightforward..." Leonard warned him.

A soft whoosh of air exited through the Vulcan's nose, the closest Spock ever came to an actual sigh. "On multiple occasions, you and I have observed the Captain's... relationships or, to be more specific, the ill effects thereafter when those relationships came to an abrupt, often unfortunate end. At one such time, you said to me that I could not understand the ramifications of falling in love, that I could not understand Jim's grief, implying that you did. So I am curious to know, Doctor, if you care for the Captain as you say you do, why risk his emotional well-being—and yours—for the sake of pleasure that may be all too brief?"

To hear Spock speak so candidly about emotion, in particular about love, floored Leonard. It also gave him the much-needed insight into what truly troubled the commander.

"You're afraid I'm going to break his heart."

"I suppose a human would phrase my concern that way."

Leonard placed a hand on Spock's knee without really thinking about it, only to catch himself a moment later and quickly withdraw his hand. Spock stared at the spot where the hand had been.

Leonard grimaced and apologized.

"Again," murmured the Vulcan, "unnecessary."

"Just accept the fact that I _am_ sorry." Leonard hesitated, then continued. "I'm sorry I didn't realize you would be bothered by it. I should have. I should've known because of how deeply you care for Jim."

Spock's head came up, as if he had been startled.

"I could promise you I won't hurt Jim, but I think you would believe me more if I said I will try my best not to hurt him."

"Then you believe the relationship is worth the risk of failure."

"Of course. I've had my share of heartbreak, Spock, like Jim. Neither of us jumped into this without some reservations. But just so you know, it seems to be working out for us." His mouth twitched. "I daresay we're happy."

Spock's ears turned dark green.

Leonard pointed at him, grinning. "You'd better watch it... I think you're losing control again!"

"Doctor," the Vulcan said, clearly torn between shock and dismay.

Leonard let out a peel of laughter.

The guard nearby twisted around to look curiously in their direction.

"We're good," Leonard said to the man. "Now tell Giotto to let us out of this cage!"


	3. Part Three

"Damn," murmured Jim as he turned away from the last row of stacked containers. He checked his comm unit and with a sigh climbed down the ladder attached to the loft of the barn he had just explored.

On the ground floor, both of his lieutenants were waiting for him. "Anything?" one of them asked.

"Wheat," he answered. "Lots of it."

They looked as disappointed as he felt.

"None of that," he chided lightly. "Nothing gained yet nothing lost either." He headed for the exit. _Time to end this hunt before someone notices._

One of the double doors creaked open before they could reach it, and a farmer in a brown jumpsuit poked his head into the barn. He stilled when he saw them, then quickly closed the door again.

Jim went after the fellow, his subordinates hastening their pace to do the same.

A circle of grim-faced men were waiting. The men were not armed, but as a precaution Jim left a good distance between his group and theirs. He realized with some dismay that if the men attacked, the only retreat was the enclosed area of the barn.

Slowly he surveyed each face, then addressed them: "Gentlemen, I don't believe we have been formally introduced. I am James Kirk, Captain of the United Starship Enterprise." He indicated his team members. "These are Lieutenants Olivares and Kolarski."

One man took slight step forward. "We know who are you, Captain."

Jim nodded, his tone more solemn than ever. "Of course you do. You were there when our shuttle landed. I recognize many of you."

The men shifted on their feet but not one of them offered a reply—or an explanation for that subtle accusation.

Jim had learned long ago how valuable patience was in a precarious situation. He couldn't say why he felt he was upon the edge of a battlefield but there was no denying the hairs standing up at the back of his neck or the tension that tightened his shoulders.

No matter. Before the first blow was struck, he had to convince these men a fight wasn't what they wanted.

He fixed his gaze on the man who had spoken. "And you are?"

The fellow stared at him almost sullenly before he answered. "Walken. Tom Walken."

"We're touring the area, Mr. Walken," Jim said. "I'm very impressed by what I've seen so far. When was Tassos III established?" He already knew that answer from a briefing with his senior command about this mission but there was something to be said for small talk.

"Ten years ago," replied another man. He was younger than most of the crowd, tawny-haired. Standing farther away than everyone else, it was as though he purposely wanted to hold himself apart despite being there. He nodded to Kirk. "Ramses," he introduced himself.

" _Shut up, Ram_ ," someone hissed.

"Gonna make me?" the guy challenged.

Jim cleared his throat. The colony was young by many standards but, for the people who lived here, who worked to build it from the ground up, ten years of their lives was nothing to scoff at. Jim had never scoffed at the hard work of others in his life. He wasn't about to start now.

He tilted his head towards a field past the barn. "I noticed you're producing grains here."

"Know something about farming, do you?" Walken sneered at him.

"Something," Jim snapped back. He drew in a breath and reined in his temper. "I grew up on one. I was curious, that's all. Do you farm for trade or just to sustain yourselves?"

Walken spat to his right and spoke to the others. "Sounds like the good Captain thinks he can interrogate us."

Jim pressed his mouth into a thin line. "Are you trying to provoke me, Tom?"

Walken looked pissed that Jim had dared to use his first name.

"That's exactly what he's doing, Captain Kirk," Ram said with a smirk.

Someone stepped forward, placed a hand on Walken's arm and murmured something to the man.

Walken folded his arms over his chest. His apology to Kirk was more of a grunt than actual words.

"I think," Jim said carefully, "my crew and I will return to the Ambassador now."

At first he thought they weren't going to allow passage. Then the leader, who clearly was Tom, gave a signal to the others. The men moved aside.

Jim wasn't particularly keen on turning his back to any potential threat—much less a dozen of them—but it was more important to keep the pretense that he wasn't interested in a confrontation. As curious as he was, his responsibility as a captain meant he couldn't needlessly place his people in danger. When there was a way out, he was obligated to take it if he could.

Kolarski and Olivares flanked him. As they moved through the group, he saw Olivares' fingers ghost across the hilt of her phaser and murmured a soft warning of " _Lieutenant._ "

She obeyed the unspoken command, dropping her hand back to her side.

Kolarski locked his jaw but kept his gaze focused ahead.

When they cleared the area and the barn became small in the distance, Jim stopped walking. He turned to his two lieutenants.

To Kolarski, he gave the order, "Return to the Copernicus. Switch out with Garrison and make a special report to the Enterprise."

Kolarski snapped to attention, cried, "Aye, Captain!" and took off at a run.

Jim looked at Olivares. "Blanca—"

"I don't like it, sir," she broke in. "I don't like _any_ of it."

"I feel the same," he agreed, "but we can't give our thoughts and feelings away—especially now."

"Because they've made it known that they don't want us here."

Jim nodded and glanced away, sighing through his nose. He had dealt with unfriendly locals before, people who felt like off-worlders shouldn't barge in and disrupt their lives and work, but more worrying than that was the nagging feeling that these men had a dangerous reason to be so protective of their territory. In his experience, no good ever came of dealing with people who had something to hide.

But what could be their secret?

He made up his mind. "Ambassador Leta and I need to have a chat." He focused on his security officer again. "Can you keep Tappan occupied for me?"

That, for some reason, had the woman grinning. "Depends, Captain. How do you want me to keep his attention?"

When he figured out her meaning, he was horrified. "I'd never ask you to seduce a man, Lieutenant."

She shook her head slightly. "Not seduce, sir. Just a little flirting—and I don't mind. There's nothing wrong with being an attractive woman."

Jim relaxed. When she put it that way... Well, hadn't he used his charm as a distraction on away missions when necessary?

The Bones voice came back, snarked in his head, _When necessary and then some, you sly devil!_

He squeezed Blanca's shoulder. "I trust you."

"Thank you, Captain."

And so, with the beginnings of a plan, they went to find Leta.

* * *

"I don't like this."

Karen Leta pressed her fingertips against the seal of the window and studied the reflection of her lover. She called his name when he didn't reply.

Tappan crossed the room to her side and smiled at her, adjusting his spectacles. "You've done wonderfully, Karen."

"You wanted me to bring Kirk here, and I did. It's time you told me why."

He picked up a strand of her hair that had fallen across her shoulder and wound it between his fingers.

She grabbed his hand to stop him. "Augustus, my answer. You promised me."

"Not yet."

She cared for this man, but he frustrated her. "We're partners. Don't you understand what that means? If you believe you must protect me..."

He said, "Protect you, my dear? You're the strongest woman I know." Light reflected off his glasses, obscuring his eyes. "No. You should have plausible deniability. You'll need it."

For an instant, Karen experienced regret. "There will be no violence," she reminded him.

Tappan leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"Gov'nor."

He let her go and turned to one of the farmers who stood in the archway separating the small room from the main hall. "Thomas! What is it?"

The frowning man didn't say anything, just eyed them; that seemed to be a signal that Tappan understood. He kissed Karen again, said, "Wait for me," and left her alone.

She turned back to the window. The temperature control of the building had to be malfunctioning because she was suddenly freezing. She wished Augustus would tell her why Captain Kirk was vital to the survival of this colony.

More so, she wished he had assured her no harm would be done. Having loved him for thirty years, she knew extremely well what reality lay behind his silence.

* * *

Kolarski banged a fist on the side of the shuttlecraft. "Joran! Garrison! Open up!"

He tried his communicator for the third time but endless static met his "Kolarski to Copernicus. Geez, would somebody _please_ let me in?"

With a huff, he pivoted around and dropped his back to the shiny exterior. What to do now? Should he return to Kirk? Why wasn't he getting a response?

And why had the shuttle been locked from the inside?

Muttering to himself, he shoved his communicator into the back of his pants and squatted down beside one of the panels curling around the underbelly of the shuttle. He drew a multi-purpose laser wrench out of his boot.

"Thank you, Mr. Scott," he muttered as he pried at the panel. The man advised all his subordinates in Engineering to have at least one tool handy on his or her person at all times.

"You never know when you'll be in a pinch, lads," the Chief of Engineering had said, "and there's nothing worse than twiddling your thumbs when the Captain expects you to be useful."

The panel finally slid back, and Kolarski set about overriding the hatch's lock. He considered himself one of Engineering's best and brightest when it came to lock-picking of any kind. He might have indulged in a little bit of juvenile delinquency when he was younger but, hey, no one needed to know that.

The hatch made a popping sound, and the gears whirred.

Kolarski was on his feet and standing impatiently in front of the door as it opened. "Guys," he started to fuss, "I know I'm new but this pranking has gone far—"

He never finished.

Behind the door there was a glimpse of an unfamiliar figure, a pair of cold eyes, and two bodies at the stranger's feet.

Joran and Garrison.

"Stupid of you," remarked the stranger—the colonist—as he lifted Garrison's phaser and fired.

Kolarski felt the burn in his chest, collapsed, and knew nothing more.

* * *

The colonist jumped down to the landing pad. Another man appeared from the back of the shuttle and joined him. They both nudged the Starfleet officer with their boots.

"Should've killed him," said one of them.

"Governor gave us orders."

They both snorted and dragged Kolarski into the shuttle. Then they set about finishing their task of destroying every piece of equipment they could find.

* * *

Jim veered away as Olivares spied Mr. Tappan in the main hall and strode towards him with purpose. He found the Ambassador at a table in another area of the building, drinking.

"Feel like sharing?" he asked as he took a seat opposite her.

"I don't drink with men I don't like, Captain Kirk."

She didn't mince words. He did respect that.

To Jim's surprise, Leta frowned and set her cup down. "Find a glass," she ordered.

He did and returned to the table. She filled it from a decanter.

A pungent smell tickled Jim's nose. He tasted the drink then raised his eyebrows. "This is brandy."

The woman snorted. "What did you think it was? Fruit juice?" She downed the contents of her own cup.

Jim sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I didn't know you indulged." She certainly had refused an aperitif at every formal dinner they had had on the Enterprise.

"Normally I don't," Leta agreed as she refilled both their glasses. "However, I find myself facing a quandary this afternoon."

"About what?" he inquired politely, his curiosity piqued.

"It's about you, actually." She didn't look at him. "I should tell you—no, I can't. I truly can't." Then she looked at him.

Jim's stomach dropped.

"You need to leave," Leta said.

"Leave you alone or leave Tassos III?"

"The latter. As quickly as possible," she insisted.

Jim unfolded his arms and placed his hands, palms down, on the table. He leaned forward. "You said you wanted me here."

She didn't flinch, just met his even stare with one of her own. "I changed my mind. Return to the Enterprise immediately."

He stayed silent for a brief second before he dared to ask, "What happens if I don't?"

"I don't know," the woman admitted.

Somehow that answer frightened Jim more than any other answer she could have given him.

A quick decision was made: "I'll take your advice, Ambassador, because my gut tells me you're speaking out of concern for my crew."

Jim stood up, took the opportunity to lean even closer to her, and said pointedly, "But I will give you fair warning: this is not the end for either of us."

He intended to speak to a few admirals upon his return. Command would be made aware of the suspicious attitudes on the colonists. His conscience wouldn't let him keep quiet about it.

Leta said nothing about his warning.

Jim accepted her silence and walked out of the room.

* * *

"He must have thought I was joking about releasing us." Arms crossed, Leonard shouted across the cell, "I wasn't joking!"

To his credit, the guard pretended to have a hearing problem. Leonard understood that security protocol dictated that all personnel was not to react to prisoners in the brig unless the prisoners appeared to be in need of medical attention. Leonard could act like he needed medical attention (technically he did) but that would be cheating.

He harrumphed and turned to Spock. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"We will be released in due time, Doctor."

"Just when is 'due time'—once I expire from boredom? I have things I need to be doing!"

"Then it was quite reckless of you to place yourself in here."

Leonard was aghast. "Are you blaming _me?_ I did it for you! Spock, you should be thanking me!"

Spock arched one eyebrow. "Hardly, as you are now my sole company for the foreseeable future."

The doctor sputtered.

Spock sounded all too innocent as he remarked, "It is likely Mr. Giotto is monitoring us."

Could the Vulcan be more frustrating? If Leonard had to stay one more minute in this cell with the insufferable hobgoblin, he would strangle him. He left the bench and stalked to the opposite side of the cell—which, admittedly, was not very far. At least he could put his back to Spock and ignore him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Spock stand as well, clasp his hands loosely behind his back, and move to the front of the cell to survey something beyond the invisible force field.

Leonard's resolve wavered. He hated being confined and silence only made it worse.

"Spock," he said, "let's not fight."

The Vulcan continued his calm perusal of the outer containment area. "Are we fighting, Doctor?"

"No," decided Leonard. Jim always told them to be nice to each other while he was away. Leonard didn't think he was a naturally nice person (he knew he was prickly even on his best days) but as of late his desire to fight with Spock had waned significantly. That was why it had bothered him deeply when Spock suddenly became cold towards him.

And the last thing he wanted was to be the person who alienated Spock from Jim.

With that worry niggling at him, he approached Spock to say more quietly, "You're not... upset with Jim, are you?" He could tell he startled Spock with that question. "What I mean is—" Cutting a surreptitious glance at the guardsman, he lowered his voice to a near whisper. "—he shouldn't be the one you... disagree... with over what's happening between us."

Spock shifted to face him. His voice was equally soft despite the challenge of "Why not?"

Leonard had to look away for a moment. "He couldn't handle it," he answered honestly. "It would tear him up that you disapproved."

Spock stayed quiet for some time. Then he said, rather than asked, "You believe he would end the relationship."

"Maybe," Leonard murmured, running his tongue along his bottom lip. "It'd put us on rocky ground for sure."

"If you are both consenting, if you are both aware of the risks, then I will not interfere."

Something settled inside Leonard. He suppressed a smile as he said, "You're a good person, Commander."

Spock moved a full step back, his "Obviously" sounding embarrassed instead of smug.

Leonard took pity on him. "Normally I would follow up that kind of compliment with a hug—"

The Vulcan actually looked alarmed.

"—but then Giotto would see it and probably blackmail us with the footage later."

"A wise choice, Doctor."

Leonard grinned, then, and bounced on his toes. "Why, thank you, Mr. Spock."

Spock probably thought it was safer not to encourage him. He remained silent.

Pivoting towards the security guard (who was grinning like a goofball for some reason), the doctor began to say, "Just what do we have to do to convince you that—"

" _Bridge to Brig Control._ "

The guard shuffled towards the wall comm on the other side of the room and answered the call.

With a sigh, Leonard returned to the bench and sat down, thinking, _Damn and blast, we're never getting out of here._

His head came up when he heard the guard call out, "Mr. Spock!"

Spock replied, "I am listening, Ensign."

"Mr. Spock can hear you, Mr. Scott," the young man relayed into the comm speaker. He did something that cranked up the volume, which was thoughtful since Leonard didn't have a Vulcan's super-hearing.

Scotty's voice rang out across the room. It was the tone of that voice which had Leonard coming back to his feet.

" _Mr. Spock, the Copernicus missed her check-in._ "

Leonard tensed. The _Copernicus_ was the shuttlecraft Jim left in.

"What are the results of attempting contact?" Spock asked, raising his voice to carry.

There was a maddening pause that made Leonard's stomach cramp with uneasiness.

" _Negative,_ " Scotty said. Then, " _And worse than that, I'm afraid. Her beacon is gone, sir._ "

"What!" exclaimed Leonard as he shot across the cell.

"Doctor!"

Spock intercepted Leonard before he connected with the force field, disbelief etched into his face. That disbelief quickly turned into something which closely resembled anger. "Dr. McCoy, your disregard for your own safety is horrifying."

Leonard stared at the force field crackling inches from his nose, swallowed hard, and took a long step back. He pushed Spock's hand off his arm and said in lieu of thanking Spock for saving him, "Did you hear what Scotty said?"

"Perfectly."

He rounded on Spock. "Then how in blazes can you sound so calm!"

"In this situation, what would be the benefit of panic?"

Leonard's hands balled into fists. "You pointy-eared devil, I'm a doctor, for Christ's sake! I'm not panicking! I don't panic!"

Spock's silence dared Leonard to prove him wrong.

Scotty squeaked through the comm, " _I dinnae know about doun there but I'll not lie—we're a mite overwhelmed up there!_ "

"We are on our way, Mr. Scott." Spock gave their guard a stare which sent the young man scrambling to unlock their cell. Apparently the thought of upsetting Spock took precedence over security protocol.

Spock shifted aside so that Leonard could be the first one out. Seconds after the force field had been dispelled, Leonard rushed to the exit and through it. He and Spock ran along the main corridor for the closest turbolift and, upon reaching it, Leonard slapped the call button hard enough to make a cracking sound.

"Bridge," he commanded the lift once inside, fighting to control his breath. For a man who claimed he didn't panic, he knew he was giving a poor impression—but he couldn't help it.

 _Jim,_ he thought.

If the shuttle was inoperable or just plain gone, then Jim...

"You must not jump to conclusions," Spock stated softly. "Not without facts."

The doctor turned his head. Spock stood closer to him than usual. His face gave nothing away but his eyes told all his secrets to Leonard.

"You're right," Leonard said, since it was obvious that Spock needed the confirmation as much as he did. "Facts first."

The lift announced their arrival and spat them out at ship's center of command in record time. For the briefest instant, Leonard fancied the Enterprise must have recognized their urgency. After all, Jim was _her_ captain as well.

Yet to Leonard, Jim was more. He finally, fully admitted that to himself as he stepped onto the upper platform of the Bridge.

The worried faces of his fellow officers turned as one to him and Spock. Their mouths were reporting what was wrong—dead beacon, silenced frequency—but their eyes held hope. Just by looking at Leonard and Spock, they felt hope. Leonard was humbled and terrified at the same time.

He was also determined not to disappoint any of them, especially himself.

Spock moved to the captain's chair, issuing orders with a directness and efficiency that came naturally to his race. Scotty conceded the chair without a word to the commander and as Spock sat down, he laid his hands on the chair's arms and directed his gaze to the main viewer.

"Mr. Sulu, set course for Tassos III."

Leonard took a position by Spock as he would have if Jim had been in command and said, "Thank you."

Spock's gaze broke from the viewer to take in the doctor, but Leonard didn't explain the gratitude. He knew there was no need. Spock would understand.

The Vulcan proved so by saying, "Thanks is unnecessary, Dr. McCoy."

The bond uniting them was a simple one: James Kirk was, and always would be, their first priority.


	4. Part Four

As Leonard joined the rest of the senior command team, he couldn't help but shake his head at the irony of the location for their emergency briefing. Someone had put the Ready Room back to rights after his confrontation with Spock; yet it was only natural that being at the scene of the crime, so to speak, made everyone feel uneasy. Of course, Leonard didn't attribute his uneasiness to a bad memory at all. He was far more concerned about the subject matter of the briefing.

The Enterprise was still out of range of Tassos III but when the time came to establish orbit, they had to be ready with a plan. Spock, who was once again in charge of the Enterprise, could choose a course of action without input from anyone; yet to date, he had given no indication that such was his style of command. Leonard had surmised that the Vulcan preferred to have separate opinions to weigh against his own. That wasn't to say Leonard always _agreed_ with Spock's final decisions, but he respected a commander who valued the perspectives of others—even if the hobgoblin sometimes claimed those perspectives were too human.

"Ye look as glum as I feel," Montgomery Scott remarked as he took a seat beside Leonard.

Across from them, a grave-looking Giotto sat down. Leonard purposefully avoided staring in that direction, for he felt foolish over his actions in the brig. The seriousness of the situation they faced now drove home the fact that his disobedience had borderlined immature and, honestly, Giotto should have kept him locked up for it.

Seated at the head of the table, Spock's gaze touched upon each officer, lingering the longest on Leonard for some reason. Leonard made a point to avoid looking at Spock just as he did Giotto.

"What do we know about the colony?" Scotty said, opening up the discussion.

Spock turned to the ship's Chief Engineer and ran through a list of facts that painted a picture of a quaint little farming community.

"Sounds antiquated," Leonard muttered.

"I doubt so," replied the Vulcan. "Tassos III was one of a dozen colonies designed for the sponsorship of a conglomerate wishing to invest in the agricultural industry. When the project was publicly announced, two prominent media outlets covered the inception of the starter colony—which happened to be Tassos III. The promotional headline, I believe, was to the effect that farming had been modernized with techniques which were highly technical and efficient, reducing the need for manual labor while increasing the yield. To date, eight of the twelve colonies have been established and appear to be functioning in accordance with the expected standards."

"That explains why they're along the Traders' Beltway."

"So it seems, Mr. Scott. Given that the colonies are positioned at key vantage points throughout the Alpha Quadrant, it would be logical to assume the intention was to optimize their availability to various mercantile groups. Gentlemen, please turn your attention to the viewer."

A portion of the table lit up as Spock activated a computer program linked to the room's projector. Everyone faced the far wall as Spock played a recording of the media coverage. The vid went on for nearly a minute before the Vulcan paused it on a scene which looked almost too idyllic to be real.

"Now that's what I call greener pastures," Leonard said sardonically. "I bet volunteers came out of the woodwork for the other colonies after this show aired."

"Your assessment, however strange, Dr. McCoy, would not be inaccurate."

Giotto wanted to know, "How long before Tassos III saw a profit of the magnitude required by their contract?"

Spock steepled his index fingers, a sign that the vein of inquiry appealed to him. "Approximately two years."

Scotty whistled. "On a tiny planet like that? That's nearly unheard of."

Giotto seemed intent on figuring something out as he pressed, "Are they still indebted to the sponsor?"

"Privacy laws prohibit access to that information."

"If they're still sponsored, that certainly complicates things." Leonard rubbed his finger along his bottom lip. "I've wondered all along why a 'Fleet diplomat would be required to visit the Tassos star system. There's no record of sentient life-forms beyond our own kind, and three of the six planets can't sustain life. Sure, Tassos III is part of the Federation—has to be under law—but since when did Starfleet involve themselves in free enterprise?" He allowed for a significant pause before offering a guess. "Unless they have a stake in the bigger picture—say, for instance, the sponsorship itself."

"I entertained similar thoughts," Spock said. "It is well-known that Starfleet does hold interest in industries which are paramount to the operation of its services."

"Dilithium," pointed out Scotty. "Cannae run our starships without 'em."

"Precisely, Mr. Scott."

But the engineer shook his head. "Tassos III does not mine dilithum crystals, sir."

"That doesn't preclude the possibility of us drafting an arrangement with the parent company to distribute what they're producing. What if Leta was sent there to facilitate new trade?" Leonard added pointedly, "It's not like our ships haven't ferried commercial products before."

Giotto developed a severe frown. "Starfleet is a peace-keeping and exploratory operation, Dr. McCoy. We only make supply runs in critical situations."

Spock interceded calmly before Leonard could fire back his retort. "Both points are salient. However, let us focus on facts."

Leonard folded his arms across his chest, his expression growing grimmer. "The most important fact is that we can't reach our captain."

Staring at him, Spock said, "I am open to suggestions."

Leonard definitely had one. "Treat it as a hostage situation."

The Vulcan lifted one eyebrow slightly. "By what reasoning?"

Leonard couldn't very well claim, _Because my gut says so_. Not with Spock.

Giotto lent his voice in lieu of McCoy's. "Starfleet left us in the dark about Leta's assignment to Tassos III. Given that, we have no choice but to assume the environment could become hostile." He looked at all of them. "If our four years of serving together on this ship has taught us anything, it's to watch our backs—and Kirk's."

Spock's tone belied the calculating look in his eyes. "I cannot condone an aggressive approach until I am certain of the threat, but I will concede that the possibility exists. Mr. Giotto, make the arrangements for the landing party. I will be among those visiting the surface."

Leonard sat forward. "I'm going too."

Scotty huffed. "Shouldn't _someone_ stay behind to watch the ship?"

The three officers looked at him.

"Aye, all right. Always left behind," the man muttered as he pushed to his feet. "But you three... the Capt'n could be in trouble, and I understand why you're anxious. So am I, but I can't forget that one of my lads is missing too. And two of yours," he added, leveling his gaze on the Chief Security Officer.

Leonard touched Scotty's arm. "Of course, Scotty. Every life matters."

"No one will be left behind," Giotto promised.

"Thank you for saying so," the engineer said. "Well... you know where I'll be. Mr. Spock, as soon as we can use the long-range scanner, ye will have my report."

Spock replied solemnly, "Thank you, Mr. Scott. Dismissed. You as well, Mr. Giotto."

Scotty nodded and exited the Ready Room, Giotto following silently behind him.

Once he and Spock were alone, Leonard's shoulders drooped of their own accord. "What are the odds that scanner tells us Jim is alive?"

"If the signal is not blocked or diverted, it should be possible to read the surface."

"That's not what I meant," he said more quietly.

Spock's gaze fixed on the frozen image of Tassos III. His tone gentled. "I am not certain it is wise for you to join the landing party, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard finally looked at the Vulcan. "It'd be worse if I stayed behind."

"Starfleet regulation states that no family member or significant other of a missing crewman should be involved directly in his recovery mission."

The doctor blanched. "Spock... I _have_ to go with you. Jim is my captain too!"

"He is also your lover."

"Do you want me to beg?"

An unusual emotion darkened the Vulcan's eyes. "Negative," he said as he stood up abruptly. His speech was clipped. "You have precisely twenty-eight minutes to choose between your personal attachment and your duty as this ship's senior medical officer. If you find that you cannot conduct yourself accordingly... keep in mind, this mission will not wait for you."

"Spock," Leonard said, shocked.

"We will reconvene at the transporter room at seventeen-hundred hours."

Leonard watched the commander's back until the door to the Ready Room closed. "Damn," he muttered. Spock was upset with him again.

But what had he done this time?

* * *

Lt. Olivares must have been watching the archway, for she called out to Jim the moment he appeared in the main hall. The man next to her, none other than Tappan, turned around at the same time and said in the tone of a man who had been caught in an embarrassing situation, "Ah, Captain Kirk! I was just having a chat with the lovely—that is, with Miss Olivares."

So, Blanca's flirting had been a success. Jim wondered if Starfleet would let him give her a commendation for that. Perhaps not. He would have to use some phrase like "displayed an exemplary skill set while on a priority mission" in order to expedite the paperwork. No matter. Not even Spock questioned Jim's choices when he wanted to hand out merits to his crew.

Jim adopted a benign smile as he approached the pair. "Mr. Tappan, no need to stand on ceremony with me. Call me Jim."

Tappan looked pleased. "Then I must insist you call me Augustus."

They began a slow amble towards the opposite end of the hall.

"Augustus," Jim said, trying out the name, "I'm very impressed with Tassos III. Your colony is clearly thriving."

"It's not _my_ colony, but I do thank you on behalf of the people who care for it." Tappan nodded in passing to a young man and young woman who were sorting items into various colored baskets. "My purpose here is to oversee the work of the farmers. Yes," he reiterated, smiling, "an overseer. That is the perfect term."

"I see," Jim replied, although he was not certain he did understand. "Did you accompany the original settlement party?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Jim grew more confused and admitted so. "I am not sure I understand what you mean. If you consider yourself separate from the locals, then who are you?"

"To put it simply," the man answered, linking his hands across his stomach, "I am a company man."

"Company," Jim repeated. Then the meaning dawned on him. "Oh, I'm sorry. I had forgotten. This is colony started out under contract. But isn't Tassos III independent now? Ten years is usually more than enough time to fulfill the stipulations of a settlement contract."

"We are very close to the day of our independence. There is but one matter left to sort out."

"I wish you good luck," Jim replied, meaning it.

Tappan looked at him oddly, then, as if Jim had told him a joke. "How it pleases me to hear you say that, Jim."

"Hey!" The man who came bounding into the hall was a face Jim recognized immediately.

Tappan stopped walking, as Jim did. Behind them, Olivares halted as well; she moved so quietly, it was as though she wasn't there.

For the first time, Tappan's friendliness disappeared. "Ramses, you promised me you would work in the field today."

"And miss the excitement?" said the ever-grinning Ramses. He looked at Jim. "Fat chance in hell!"

Tappan grew red in the face. "Mind your language, boy! A vulgar tongue makes for a—"

"—vulgar man," Ram finished, his grin turning impish. "I bet Captain Kirk never curses."

Jim suppressed a smile and turned to Tappan. "He must be your son. I see the resemblance."

Tappan drew in a long breath and released it all at once, as though there were a great many things he wished to say about the impudent youth in front of them. "Yes, this young man is my son."

"I sense an 'unfortunately' in there, Dad."

"Ramses, I am with guests. Go terrorize someone else for the time being."

Ram gave his father a sloppy salute and a "Yes, sir, Gov'nor, sir!" Then the long-legged fellow bounded the rest of the way across the hall, calling out to one of the people at the table.

Tappan muttered something under his breath, took a hard grip on Jim's arm, and steered him quickly out of earshot of the bawdy joke that Ram had launched into.

"He has spunk," Jim remarked as their small group stepped out into the fresh air.

"Too much," complained Ramses' father.

Jim did smile, then. "All young men do at that age." He turned to face Tappan and made a subtle gesture that beckoned Olivares over to his side. "I want to thank you for your hospitality this afternoon," he said with more formality. "Regretfully, there has been a change in plans—"

"I doubt that," the man interrupted him, gaze shifting to focus beyond Kirk's shoulder. "Mr. Longwell, Mr. Greene, there you are. Come here."

The two men who strode across the grounds at Tappan's behest screamed _red alert_ to Jim. He noticed that Olivares reacted as well, changing her position so that she was slightly ahead of him.

Both men ignored Tappan's guests.

"Did you finish your assignments?" Tappan asked them.

"Sure, Governor," the taller one said.

"Got these too," replied the other as he tossed an object into Tappan's hands.

It took Jim a second too long to recognize what that object was. When he did, his stomach plummeted.

"Hm," murmured Tappan, turning the phaser over in his hands.

"You—" Jim started, then stopped when Tappan nonchalantly took aim at him.

Olivares whipped out her phaser in an instant and trained it on Tappan. In turn, Longwell and Greene each drew a phaser and pointed them at her.

"You," Jim began again, his fury building up like a thundercloud. The colonists couldn't have 'Fleet-issued phasers unless they had stolen them off _his_ men. "You had better explain yourself, mister!"

"Captain," Tappan said, "you are understandably upset, but I don't think you are in any position to berate me. If it may be of some consolation to you, I will tell you that your crew is alive."

"Mostly," amended one of the other men with a laugh. "Took us a while to figure the right setting on these things."

Jim lost his reason. But as he flung himself forward to wrestle with the bastard who laughed at the thought of having killed one of his crewmen, Blanca blocked his path with her body and said sharply, "Captain, no!"

He froze only because the second man warned him, "Stop right there or I'll shoot the bitch!"

Olivares cursed.

Jim cursed too. He was in a standoff without the upper hand.

"Oh dear," Tappan said, "this is delightful."

At the sound of shouting, others had come out of the hall, from the fields, the smaller residential domes. Some of them stayed back; some came close enough to be within an arm's reach. Jim looked at the faces surrounding him and had the sick realization that none of them intended to stop Tappan.

A voice rose in alarm. The person who pushed through the crowded courtyard was the Ambassador. Leta paled as soon as she saw Kirk.

"Augustus!" she said, rounding on the man in question, "it can't be done this way!"

"Karen, please, no histrionics. Why don't you go back inside?"

"He's Starfleet, Augustus! You can't just—"

" _I can_ ," the man snapped back, shocking the woman into silence. "You have two choices in this moment, Karen: return inside under your own power or insensate, over the shoulder of one of my men."

Leta closed her mouth and straightened her back. But when she looked at Kirk, she didn't say anything. With deadly silence, she turned on her heel and left. Jim didn't fail to notice the person who broke away from the crowd to follow Leta was Tappan's son, Ram.

He fixed his furious gaze on the man he now knew was truly his enemy. "It's not too late," he said. "Lower your weapons. Whatever situation has made you think you have to do this, I promise you we can resolve it some other way."

"Oh, it is far, far too late for negotiation, Jim," came Tappan's reply. "Stun them."

* * *

Aware of the person following her, Karen went to a window that overlooked the courtyard. Kirk and his security guard had folded to the ground. Tappan was directing his men where to move their bodies.

"Why didn't you stop him?"

The voice barely registered. She couldn't turn from the window. She had breached a point of no return by her inaction. Whether she ended up in prison or living in wealth as Augustus promised, either way she would be freed of her career.

" _Why didn't you stop him?_ "

The question finally touched her. She looked in the glass at a reflection. Her eyes burned.

His eyes burned too but in a different way. He hated her. Of course he did—because she loved his father.

"Ram," she said, "I'm sorry." Every time she came back, she found herself apologizing to him.

His fists flexed, relaxed, flexed again. "Whatever," Ram said diffidently. "Maybe you should apologize to Captain Kirk."

"Do you think he would forgive me?"

 _No_ , his eyes said.

Karen returned her gaze to the world outside the window. The crowd was retreating. Her lover still stood at the center of it all, grinning like he used to in his youth. When was the last time she had seen him that happy? The smile he usually gave her nowadays was empty.

"You're not listening," Ram accused her.

The woman sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Stop that."

"What else can I say to you?"

"Anything. How are you? What have you been doing for two years? Did you miss me?" He tossed out that last question with great bitterness.

Again, he was mocking her, letting her know how betrayed he felt. Sometimes Karen wished Ram would just say it, the words: _I hate you._

She shivered, thinking. "Ram, I do have a question." Even without looking at him, she sensed Ram grow still.

"What?" he asked, less angry, more hopeful.

"Do you regret living with your father?"

Silence lengthened between them, but eventually he answered her.

"I don't know."

"I wanted the best for you," she said. "A home, stability. Not living as I do."

"That's a lie."

"I swear it's not."

"Your career always came first."

At last, Karen faced her son. "That's why I gave you up. You couldn't be happy. Tell me," she pleaded, "that I made the right choice."

But he wouldn't. She hoped that didn't mean that he couldn't.

It was Ram who gave up first. He turned to leave, except he paused in the doorway as he had not in the past. He said, "I do know. I've never liked it here. With him. Now I know I would have liked living with you even less." For the briefest moment, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Karen felt a tear slide down her cheek and wiped it away. Crying would make no difference now, not for him or her. "You mean that," she said in a more neutral tone.

"You have to stop him, Mom," was Ram's only reply. Then he was gone.

* * *

The angry pounding in Jim's head and the foul taste in his mouth were aftereffects of a disrupted nervous system. He had been stunned by a phaser enough times to be intimately familiar with the sensations. The nausea in his gut, however, was not an aftereffect; it was the result of knowing the body which lay along the wall covered by a green tarp was Garrison's.

To Jim's right, Kolarski was awake but unnervingly silent. Olivares, who had been tied to a post on the other side of the barn, hadn't regained consciousness yet. Joran occasionally groaned. In the dim lighting, the man looked ghostly white. The energy of the blast with which he had been hit must have been only slightly less than the amount required to kill him.

Jim twisted his bonds for the umpteenth time, felt the bite of plastic in his flesh. They had bound his wrists so tightly that not even dislocating his thumb would help him free himself.

"Kolarski," he said, "can you talk? Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant answered in a weak whisper.

"What happened?"

At first, Jim thought Kolarski had lost his voice again.

Then the young man said, "They were... waiting inside the shuttle, sir. I don't know how they had gotten in." He inhaled a tiny bit. "Joran and... Garrison were already down."

Both of them flinched.

Kolarski hung his head, and his voice became so tiny, it was difficult to hear him. " _...my fault... stupid to open the door._ "

"The responsibility is mine," Jim said, his words heavy with guilt. "It's not your fault, Andrew."

Kolarski made a snuffling noise and raised his head. "It's not your fault either, Captain."

Jim just sighed.

"C-Capt'n?"

Jim jerked his head around, squinted in an attempt to better see Olivares' face. "Blanca?"

"Ugh," muttered the woman as her chin came off her chest. "I feel worse than that time I got drunk when we took shore leave on Risa."

"Some details should remain private, Lieutenant," Jim said at the same time Kolarski wanted to know, "Wait, we get shore leave on Risa?"

"When you're older, Andy," Olivares remarked, looking around. She squirmed for a minute, then said, "They've used a polymer tie for the binding. Feels like super-grade. Don't try to break it. You'll only hurt yourself."

"Is there any way to cut it?" Jim asked. No point in mentioning that he'd already tried and failed; he'd just embarrass himself. He felt his officer's gaze find him.

"No, sir. Mr. Giotto did teach us a trick... but this damn pole is in the way. I'm sorry, Captain."

Jim said, "Don't be. I'm going to need everything you know to help us get out of this situation."

"Understood." Olivares' tone suddenly filled with tension. "...Joran? Where's Garrison?"

Kolarski snuffled again.

Jim understood why Blanca fell silent after that. To her, Lt. Garrison was not just a fellow officer; he had been her brother-in-arms, likely a friend.

She finally whispered something, an apology or a prayer. Only the semi-darkness gave her a moment of privacy to grieve.

Jim transferred his focus back to Kolarski. "Andrew, is there anything else that you remember? Were Tappan's men doing anything out of the ordinary?"

"I don't know, sir. It all happened too fast. I saw... " The lieutenant's tone of voice changed from uncertain to questioning. "I saw equipment? Yeah, one of the supply boxes, overturned."

Had Tappan's men been snooping? Stealing? Simply damaging their shuttle?

Jim wished he knew.

"We missed the check-in," Blanca pointed out. "The Enterprise will be on her way."

Now that he did know. Unfortunately it was his gut which argued that a simple rescue wasn't going to work. Tappan—as well as Leta—knew a starship of people who would come looking for their captain in due time. What did that mean, then?

"Sir?"

Jim realized Olivares had been talking to him.

"Forgive me, Lieutenant. What did you say?"

"You're thinking what I'm thinking, aren't you? It's a trap."

"Yes," he confessed, "it does seem that way. But a trap for whom, exactly?"

The lieutenants did not have an answer for him.

* * *

Leonard alternated between nervously fidgeting with his medical tricorder and gripping the edge of the transporter console. Giotto had recently brought in a team of four security officers. Spock had yet to show up.

He wanted to be down on that colony, but he also wanted to hear the results from analyzing the surface. The long-range scanner hadn't detected any useful information, which could have meant anything from space debris blocking their frequency to sabotage to there not being any life signs to detect.

But this crew was, above all things, stubborn. He knew the men and women on the Bridge were throwing everything they could at the surface short of actual torpedoes to see what they could find out.

Only, what in blazes was taking so long!

The door leading to the corridor slid open and a familiar figure came through it. Leonard hurried toward him.

"What's the hold up?" he demanded.

Spock gave him an unimpressed stare, then looked past him to Giotto. "Is the team adequately prepared?"

"Yes, Mr. Spock."

"Then let us proceed."

Security arranged themselves on the platform.

Leonard ground his teeth and followed Spock to the transporter console. "Don't ignore me," he said. "I'm here, and I'm willing to take orders."

"I am not ignoring you, Dr. McCoy. At present I have no information to offer you."

"Then say you don't know!"

Spock's look would have withered the courage of a lesser man. "Doctor, your agitation is hardly helpful."

Leonard banged his tricorder on the top of the console like a judge's gavel, causing both techs at the controls to jump in the air.

"Listen here, you green-blooded devil!" he snarled, his accent thickening. "Agitation ain't half of what I'm feelin' right now! So unless you want to be put over my knee and spanked for your bad attitude, act your age, damn it!"

Everybody in the room gawked at him with the exception of Giotto, who just looked startled, and Spock, whose ears turned very, very green.

"Doctor, that—is—" Spock started and stopped. "—illogical."

Leonard would have gladly strangled the Vulcan had Scotty not contacted them from the Bridge just then.

"Bridge to Transporter Three. Mr. Spock, we found something!"

"Is it Jim? Did you find Jim?" Leonard asked, hurrying around the console to muscle Spock out of the way. In failing to do so, for the damn Vulcan would not be budged, he settled for hanging over Spock to be certain he could hear the reply. "If you nerve pinch me," he hissed when Spock lifted a hand, "you _will_ regret it."

Spock turned his attention back to the comm. "Mr. Scott, report."

"The scanners cannae pick up any bio-signatures—"

Leonard's heart clenched.

"—but Uhura did detect a wee hint of scrambler, sir, which might be throwing off our scans."

"Can she decode it?"

"She's working on it now. We think once we untangle the frequency, we should also be able to reach one of their communicators."

Leonard pressed his teeth into his bottom lip. "That means once we're down there, we will find ourselves unable to contact the ship too."

"A risk we must take," Spock determined. "Mr. Scott, you have the conn. The mission will continue as planned."

Leonard followed on the Vulcan to the platform and took a position beside him. For the first time in his life, he didn't think of complaining about having his molecules scattered to the solar winds. He held on tightly to his tricorder and medkit.

"Spock," he started to apologize, "what I said—"

"Forgiven," the Vulcan answered immediately, "and—" He hesitated, then, which was unusual for him. "—forgotten, if possible."

Despite his anxiety, Leonard enjoyed a moment of amusement. "No one in this room is likely to forget that I threatened to spank my superior."

Spock made a pained sound.

He added a bit wickedly, "Let's just hope they have the decency not to gossip about it."

"Energize," Spock called to the transporter techs, clearly seeing some appeal in the ability to disappear.

* * *

Jim expected Tappan would come by to gloat and he was not disappointed.

"Well, well, Jim..."

"It's Captain," Jim said.

"I suppose I did lose that privilege," Tappan commented with a nod. "Captain, you are in quite a bind, no pun intended."

"Good because I'm not in a joking mood. What are you after, Tappan?"

Tappan made a motion to a companion. It was Walken.

Walken stepped forward and curled his upper lip at Kirk. "What should I do to him, Gov'nor?"

"Nothing as dramatic as you're imagining, Thomas. Captain Kirk and I need to have a private conversation. Bring him along."

"Try to get away," Walken warned Jim as he crouched down to remove the ties around Kirk's feet and wrists, "and I'll have my excuse to take care of you."

Jim didn't have any intention of getting away, not when it meant abandoning his own crew.

Olivares gave him a solemn nod that meant she wouldn't provoke their captors in the meantime. He hadn't asked her to look after Kolarski and Joran, but he knew she would anyway.

He stayed pliant and cooperative as Walken marched him through a side door of the barn. The room beyond the door had the faint odor of mildew and a moisture in the air that was odd. The colony had state-of-the-art storage and processing facilities. Why did it smell as if their crops might actually be rotting?

Instead of shoving him into the chair in the middle of the room, Walken planted his boot in Kirk's back and sent him sprawling across the ground. Jim stayed down on instinct. Let them think he was afraid. He had dealt with bullies before (and worse than bullies).

He looked up at Tappan. "Never judge a book by its cover."

Tappan narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"You're a thug."

Tappan laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "Bait me all you want, Captain. We both know who holds the power."

Jim sat up and brushed off his tunic sleeves. "Tell me," he asked Tappan's henchman, "why do you honor this man with the title of Governor? Shouldn't that imply he has the _authority_ to govern you?" Jim smirked. "Which, I know for a fact, Augustus Tappan does not."

Tappan reached for him, furious.

It was Walken who stopped the man, who recognized what Jim was doing. He kicked Jim squarely in the chest and then pressed the side of Jim's face against the floor.

Jim gritted his teeth.

Tappan's boots came into view. "What happens next is very simple, my dear Kirk." The man laid a hand against the side of Jim's neck as if comforting a frightened animal. "You will give the order to destroy Tassos III."

Jim would have laughed if he could. This man had no idea who Jim was or what he was willing to die for—and die he would before he ever issued a command to kill thousands. Just the thought turned his stomach and brought back ugly, painful memories. The smell of decay wasn't helping.

He drew in a sharp breath and grunted, "You're... insane."

That accusation amused Tappan for some reason. "On the contrary, I am a visionary. If this colony is to be reborn, it must first die."

Jim knew then he had discovered something much worse than a colony of anarchists. Tappan wanted to be the next Kodos.

That realization, not Walken bearing a full-grown man's weight down on his head, was what made James Kirk scream.

* * *

 **I feel that I should offer a warning of sorts. Things have to get worse before they can get better. If you don't like your Kirk in pain - emotional or physical - this may not be the story for you. Expect some Kirk!whumpage (but with a PG-13 rating).**


	5. Part Five

Cries of "Captain!" reached Jim's ears as Walken dragged him from the makeshift interrogation room back to the place where he had been bound. Jim refused to make it easy on the bastard, playing weaker than he was, and Walken was sweating from his efforts. When they reached the other side of the barn, the man unceremoniously dropped Kirk to the floor and gave him a hard shove with his boot.

Olivares knew Klingon shockingly well. The insults she threw at Walken would have made a battalion commander blush.

Tappan passed by them at a more leisurely pace. He sounded quite unconcerned when he said, "Make our dear captain comfortable, Thomas."

Jim rolled over to his side and sat up with his back to the post, kept his head down.

No doubt pissed that he had been denied another opportunity to cause pain, Walken quickly bound Jim's hands and turned to follow the man he called Governor.

"Captain," Blanca called to Kirk once they were alone.

Kolarski echoed her distress.

Jim looked up and saw that even Joran, fighting to remain conscious, was concerned.

"I'm all right," he told them.

"You don't look all right, sir," the woman countered.

Jim started to smile and winced as the motion tugged at his split lip. "They're only surface wounds, Lieutenant."

"When I can move again, I'm going to teach that bastard a lesson—and _then_ I'll hand him over to Mr. Spock."

 _Give Walken to Spock?_ thought Jim. Considering that the Vulcan commander was a pacifist except under duress, Jim didn't think that Spock would harm the man very much.

Well, not physically. Spock did have a way of exacting punishment that could make a person wish he had been punched in the face instead.

In actuality, Jim worried more at the thought of one of his captors falling into Bones' hands. There was nothing more frightening than a doctor's protective instincts, especially when said doctor thought a patient under his care had been threatened or harmed. And Jim had discovered that where he was concerned, McCoy got particularly worked up. He would bet a month's salary that becoming lovers only made Bones more sensitive about his well-being.

"Captain?"

Jim shook off his thoughts. "I know this is not news to any of you, but we're in a very delicate situation. Our top priority right now is _not_ to provoke the enemy."

Olivares' gaze sharpened. "Did Tappan tell you what he wanted?"

Jim pressed his mouth flat. "Yes, but it's never going to happen." He met each of their gazes. "They will try to use me against you and to use you against me. I want you to be prepared. I cannot and will not act as they want—" He swallowed down regret. "—no matter what that costs us."

Kolarski nodded gravely. A kind of calm settled over Joran's face.

"We understand, Captain," Blanca said, and others did not gainsay her. "It has been— _is_ —an honor to serve with you."

"The honor is mine," Jim replied heavily. "I couldn't have asked for a better crew. Whether or not we survive this, everyone will learn of how brave you have been. I can promise you that."

The silence that settled over their group wasn't solemn or sad. Jim saw determination in his crewmen's faces. He saw their pride. Despite knowing they were likely to suffer, even die, in the next few hours, their faith in him was strengthened.

Realizing this nearly brought Kirk to tears. This was, he decided, one of the worst and best moments of his captaincy.

* * *

Tappan gathered his most loyal in the town hall and reiterated that their mission was at its most critical stage. No one could waver in his vision of the future or they would all suffer failure.

"This colony belongs to us," he said, "but unless we are willing to tear it from greedy hands, it will never rightfully become ours. I have shown you the true nature of your contract. You are not employed— _you are enslaved!_ You will never see the profits of your labor. Despite raising your families here, you will never have the _legal right_ to own your homes." He opened his hands to the air. "And what of this beautiful education center? Another lie! The sponsor did not _gift_ you with the tools to better yourselves. They are only to teach you how to meet their demands!"

Men and women started to nod. Tappan felt buoyed by their murmurs of agreement.

"It is said the human race overcame the age of servitude centuries ago, yet that is another lie. Sponsorship is servitude, and they think us too naive to recognize it! But we will not be laughed at as fools. We will no longer live in ignorance. Where others have cried for justice for years, wasted themselves in legal battles against the pitiless corporate monsters, we shall succeed in a matter of days because we are not afraid. We demand our future now! We make our own destiny! Fight for freedom! For your families! For the right to live on a world that you created with your bare hands!"

"Yeah!" cried some. "Ours!" cried others.

Tappan clasped his hands in prayer. "Ten years ago I was sent to guide you—no, not to guide, but to rule over you as a master who carefully grooms a generation of slaves. I was the corporate man. I am ashamed of that. Having stayed by your side all of these years made me realize why I should feel shame. I remember the hardships you struggled through. I remember the sacrifices you had to make. And I remember the joy each time you persevered. Now I know this js where I belong, here with you, as a man of this colony. I shall make you this promise: when the free state of Tassos III names me Governor, I will grant every boon that the sponsor would not. I will ensure the profits of our labors are shared equally. Place your trust in me, and I swear I am with you to the very end!"

His eyes gleamed behind his glasses. He reveled in the cheering, in the enthusiastic displays of devotion to his cause. Soon, these people would have all that they deserved—and him along with them.

Even as his gaze drank in the empowering sight, he noted a lone shadow which slipped from back of the hall. It caused his joy to dim.

The boy was a problem, always had been. Ramses had no understanding of, or willingness to understand, the politics at play. He thought his father was... mad.

Tappan's smile dropped away, then, and the crowd, upon seeing their leader's displeasure, quieted.

"What actions we take now are necessary for our survival," he said, staring towards the back hall. "Do not stray from the path. To do so is death... for us all."

With that final warning, he left the podium. "Find my son," he said to the man waiting at the edge of the stage.

"Gov'nor?"

"Find Ramses," Tappan insisted. "Lock him in the grain house. For his own safety."

If Longwell thought the order was odd, he made no comment to that effect. The farmer simply gave a nod and disappeared from the gathering.

* * *

 _Ship's Log: Stardate 4640.5. This is Lt. Cmdr. Scott speaking, in command of the Enterprise in the absence of Captain Kirk and First Officer Spock. The ship is locked in orbit around Tassos III, the last known location of the Capt'n and the crew of the Copernicus. Cmdr. Spock and Dr. McCoy, along with a team of Security officers, have transported to the surface to investigate. Interference from an unknown source leaves us unable to maintain contact with them, but we're working as fast as we can on a solution to that._

A pause occurred in the recording.

 _It may be sentimental of me to say this on official record—aye, 'tis truly sentimental—but Capt'n Kirk is like me family, only second in rank to the fair Lady Enterprise herself, and I'll take a photon torpedo doun there meself if—ahem. Lt. Uhura appears to have some news for me. Computer, erase last ten seconds of entry._

Another pause occurred in the recording.

 _What do ye mean ye cannae erase my transcription? Computer? Computer! Oh, I'll take a wrench to you later. End log._

* * *

They beamed into a ghost town. As Leonard looked into the distance, he could have sworn a tumbleweed rolled lazily across the street. The lack of people coupled with the lack of sound set him on edge.

He ventured towards the stairway of the landing and cranked up the sensors on his tricorder to maximum capacity. He was about to motion for Spock to join him when Giotto called the Vulcan to the opposite side of the platform. Leonard watched from the corner of his eye as the two officers knelt to the ground and discussed something in soft voices. Then Spock twisted a broad strap around his chest to gain access to his tricorder and preoccupied himself with fine-tuning it.

He wondered what the Vulcan was looking for, then dismissed the thought and returned to his own instrument. To his dismay, it beeped in the negative. He broadened the parameters for life-signs not specifically Kirk's and found plenty of them nearby (though hidden from sight), all specifically human.

He was frowning when Spock approached him and asked, "Anything?"

"Wish I could scan the whole colony in one fell swoop. The range on this thing is too short," the doctor complained, frustrated that he hadn't located Jim.

"I am aware of the limitations of your device, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard pursed his mouth. "Mr. Spock, here's a novel concept for you: why don't you try to be helpful instead of a nuisance?" But his ire fizzled out as he began to peruse their surroundings. "Where did they land the shuttle? In a field?"

"It is highly doubtful we will find the Copernicus."

"Why not?"

"I suspect it has been dematerialized."

That answer had Leonard jerking his head around to stare at Spock. "Come again?" he said in disbelief. "I can't have heard you right."

"Mr. Giotto observed burn marks on the platform of a width and length reminiscent of a standard shuttlecraft. My tricorder detected pockets of rebounded protonic charges."

"Residue from phaser fire," Leonard said. "But, Spock, that almost always indicates a rifle or cannon was fired, not a handgun. Think of the amount of energy emission necessary to..." He trailed off and shook his head.

"It is possible, Doctor, with no less than six phasers firing at full capacity simultaneously on the target."

The image alone was horrifying. "My god, someone really _vaporized_ our shuttle?" Then he had a thought even more horrifying than that mental image. "What if—"

Spock interrupted him sharply. "We cannot preoccupy ourselves with conjecture. Time is of the essence."

Well, that answered the question of whether or not Spock was willing to entertain the idea that Jim had been vaporized along with the Copernicus.

Leonard nodded because he didn't want to entertain the thought for very long either. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"If we operate in parties of three, we can optimize our coverage of the colony before we are required to search by artificial light."

Giotto came up behind them. "Sir, we have company."

Leonard swallowed his _then what are we waiting for?_ and turned to watch the approach of several men. Most of them were dressed in the typical outerwear preferred by industrial farmers. It was the man leading them who looked like he had never touched the machines necessary to till the soil, plant, and harvest. His clothes were neatly pressed; he wore a pair of antique glasses that weren't safety-shielded. He even had a small bow-tie attached to the collar of his shirt.

 _All that's missing is the gold pocket chain, the mahogany cane, and a top hat_ , thought Leonard with a mental snort. Where did this fellow think he lived? At the Presidential Palace on Mars?

The man gave them a jovial welcome. "Hello there! Welcome to Tassos III! My name is Augustus Tappan. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

Spock folded his hands behind his back. "I am Commander Spock, First Officer of the United Starship Enterprise."

"Greetings, Commander Spock." The man's smile widened as he took in Spock's appearance. "Why, you're a Vulcan! I had no idea Vulcans worked in Starfleet."

Spock acknowledged, "Very few do."

"Oh, I wish Kirk had mentioned you. I have a certain... fascination with Vulcanians." He cleared his throat, composed himself, and raised his right hand in a Vulcan salutation. "I hope my etiquette is appropriate."

One of Spock's eyebrows inched upwards before he returned the gesture. "It would seem so, Mr. Tappan."

Leonard decided then and there he wasn't going to be very fond this overdressed popinjay. He scowled and said, "Where's our captain?"

The man blinked, then continued on as if Leonard hadn't spoken. "I admit to some surprise at seeing you all. We have had no advance notice regarding your visit to our planet." He added almost too casually, "I am certain you have a reasonable explanation."

"Indeed," Spock replied. "Our purpose is most reasonable. We have lost communication with Captain Kirk and the crewmembers who accompany him. Tassos III would be their last known location."

"A missing starship captain? How very serious! Only... you won't find him."

Tappan smiled when he said that. The hairs rose on the back of Leonard's neck.

"What I mean to say," the man amended, "is that Kirk is not here. He left some hours ago, both your captain and his crew."

 _Liar, liar, pants on fire,_ Leonard thought. "You won't object to us looking 'round, then."

Tappan focused on him for the first time. "Who would you be?" His tone of voice wasn't nearly so pleasant.

"Dr. Leonard McCoy, Kirk's Chief Medical Officer."

Tappan tucked his hands over his stomach. "I see. Is there some medical emergency that requires you to be here, Dr. McCoy?"

Leonard bristled. Who was this fool to question his authority?

Spock fixed an unblinking stare on Tappan. "While your etiquette may be appropriate, your inquiry is not. Dr. McCoy's presence is not your concern—although, should you fall ill, you would most certainly come to appreciate his skill in medicine."

That was rather sweet of Spock to say, especially since Spock was the one who often labeled him as a witch doctor. Leonard would have to remember to thank the hobgoblin later.

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and moved to the edge of the landing pad, Giotto and a second security officer flanking him. He addressed the group with a sternness that was usually reserved for subordinates who had pushed him past the limit of his almost infinite Vulcan patience: "Mr. Tappan, to clarify, this is an official investigation. We have every intention of searching these premises. We request your full cooperation. If you refuse, then by Federation law the minimum cooperation required is that you do not hinder the investigation in any way."

"I... see. By Federation law, am I required to accommodate you and your men as well? Cooperatively speaking." Tappan smiled again.

"We will not impose on you in that manner," Spock answered with chilling formality. "We came prepared to care for ourselves."

Leonard was certain that the flicker which passed through Tappan's eyes was triumph. He just wasn't sure _why_ the man had reason to feel that way.

Tappan seemed to rein himself in, for he adopted a more neutral expression and said with some sincerity, "Let us not be hostile with one another, Commander. Your request for cooperation is granted. Once you have satisfied yourselves that your missing crewmen are not among us, please come find me. We shall have an enlightening conversation."

He bowed, which none of his companions did, and led his group away.

"Spock," Leonard said once the colonists were out of earshot, "Jim is definitely here."

Spock looked from McCoy to the medical tricorder and back again. "Have you some indication of his location?"

"No," Leonard admitted. "But it's that pompous fellow who gave it away. He sounded so certain that we won't find Jim. A man is usually only that arrogant when he believes he is a few moves ahead of his opponent."

"Or when he is, in fact, correct in his calculations."

"Jim's here," Leonard insisted.

Spock glanced away and replied, returning to his customary monotone, "Then we must make haste in finding him."

* * *

Jim knew they were being watched long before the watcher made himself known. When the shadow that slid down the ladder from the loft revealed itself to be Tappan's son, he was hardly surprised.

Ram loitered by the ladder for a minute before he strode across the barn with purpose and dropped into a crouch by Kirk. "Does it hurt?" he asked, staring at the bruise darkening Jim's jaw.

Kolarski, oddly enough, was the one who snapped, "What do you think?"

"Andrew," Jim said in warning. He transferred his hard stare to Olivares and Joran, ensuring that they followed his order not to engage anyone on his behalf.

"He's not a bad person."

Jim turned back to Ram and said nothing.

"He's not... completely bad," the young man amended. "My father, I mean."

Still, Jim said nothing.

It was clear that his silence was beginning to bother Ram, for Ram began to fidget. "He's convinced he is doing the right thing. And he's not the only one."

 _Got you_ , thought Jim. "But you are not convinced," he commented at last.

Ram rocked back on his heels at Kirk's shrewdness and wrapped his arms around his knees. "No, I don't understand him." He had a half-smile that was more sardonic than McCoy's. "But what kid would claim to understand his parent?"

"Do you believe if you did understand, you would agree with his actions?"

Ram's gaze lowered. "No, sir."

"Ramses, I'm only going to tell you this once. You are an adult. You are not beholden to your father or to any other man or woman on this colony. Whether you choose to act with the others, to act against them, or not to act at all, there will be consequences. I suggest you make your decision in accordance with the consequences that you know you can live with."

Ram snorted softly but the rigid line of his shoulders relaxed. "And here I thought, wow, maybe the great Captain Kirk will beg me to help him escape. I guess you don't beg."

 _Only under certain circumstances._ But Ram didn't need to know that.

Jim agreed flatly, "I don't. And I won't."

Tappan's son stood up. "Well, I wish you had come sooner, Captain."

Before Jim could ask him what that meant, the double doors to the barn opened. Ram froze, as did Kirk and the others. Then, ashen-faced, the young man bolted for the ladder to the loft.

Jim saw Walken whip out a phaser and cried, "No!"

Ram had no time to react. The blast knocked him off the ladder and to the floor. He didn't get back up.

Jim called Walken something worse than Olivares had, and he made certain to say it in Standard.

Walken strode forward. "Be glad I didn't kill him." For a moment, though, the man looked like he wanted to do exactly that as he stared down at the crumpled youth. He turned and beckoned three other men into the barn. "Longwell, here's your little traitor. I've got Kirk. The rest of you take the others."

"Take 'em where, Tom?"

Walken gave Olivares a nasty little smile. "Somewhere nobody'll find the bodies."

Jim pulled against his bonds. "No!" he shouted when one of the men pulled out a knife and went for Joran, who couldn't do more than turn his face away. "Stop!"

"Poor Kirk," Walken said in response to Jim's distress, shaking his head, "you don't get it yet. You were dead men the second you stepped out of that shuttle. Shoulda stayed on your comfy starship."

Jim bit off a scream when the man with the knife forced Joran's head back in his direction. But, rather than ending things with a quick slash, the fellow held up his weapon and warned Joran, "Try something stupid and this goes right into your gut."

An emotion passed through Joran's gaze that, to Jim, was eerily similar to the defiance of a dying man.

"Don't struggle, that's an order!" he barked.

Joran met his eyes. It took him a second longer than usual to say, "Aye, Captain."

Walken blocked Jim's view, then. "No need to worry about them. Where you're going is a lot worse."

Jim almost said, _Go to hell._

His face must have expressed the sentiment, however; Walken flicked the phaser setting to heavy stun and without another word shot him.

* * *

They split into teams of three as Spock directed, determining who led the teams by who carried tricorders. Leonard would have found it surprising that the Chief of Security was proficient at operating a device used to detect scientific anomalies but Giotto was an extremely intelligent man with an aptitude for a variety of disciplines. Why he had chosen Security when he could have had his pick of the most elite career tracks was a mystery contemplated by several individuals and a never-ending source of frustration for Starfleet Resources. Leonard had posed the question to Jim once out of curiosity. Jim had said, much like everyone else, that he didn't know what made Giotto tick but the man was excellent at his job and never complained, so Jim would settle for being lucky enough to count him as part of the crew.

While Leonard scanned the area, he contemplated the relationship between Kirk and Giotto.

Knowing that his superior wasn't going to pressure him to follow a set path had to be a relief. Maybe that was why Giotto had made the first overture at befriending Kirk, even though Jim claimed that ninety percent of their interactions were always very formal. It was the remaining ten percent that had people lining the walls of the gymnasium to watch Kirk and Giotto spar like it was the most entertaining show on the ship.

It probably was. The pair's version of "sparring" more closely resembled dirty street fighting. The first time Leonard had seen them in action, he had yelled at Giotto for letting their captain fling himself about like a demented cartoon. But Giotto was one of the rare individuals who could face Leonard's temper without flinching. His calm explanation had been, "The more unorthodox the fighting method, the more likely a person is to succeed in disabling his attacker."

"And the more work I have to do to put Jim back together!" Though Leonard had inwardly, if grudgingly, acknowledged the point, he made his stance on the matter clear: "The first time he comes to Medical with an issue more serious than a strained muscle, I'm writing you up for reckless endangerment of personnel and failure to obtain proper authorization—including _my_ approval!—of a training program, recreational in nature or not."

Giotto's mouth had twitched. "Not a threat I haven't already heard, Dr. McCoy, but duly noted." Then he had left Leonard staring at his closed office door, wondering who had gotten to the man first.

Contrary to belief, Jim didn't have many friends on the ship, a point which Leonard belaboured a time or two but of which he could never fully convince Kirk. Friendly interactions weren't supposed to be stiflingly professional, and Jim was allowed be himself instead of always the Captain. But Jim was exceedingly bull-headed about some things and so, if Leonard could add a person to the small list of Jim Kirk's Friends, he counted it as a win.

Giotto, he decided, was a friend—or friend-ish. At the very least, there was no doubt the man was determined to find Kirk.

On the other hand, Spock was most certainly Jim's best friend (if, that was, Vulcans didn't find it emotionally irrelevant to be the "best" at friendship with a person). Leonard knew how unique the relationship was. Sometimes he envied it, but mostly he was grateful. Jim needed that unwavering loyalty and the non-judgmental acceptance.

But this time in particular, Jim needed Spock's determination to return him safely to the Enterprise. Leonard had a feeling if he wasn't successful (and he hadn't been so far) in his search, Spock would persevere. The Vulcan, he thought, would travel to the ends of the universe looking for Jim, maybe even to another universe altogether.

Clinging to that hope, occasionally Leonard checked his communicator to see if it was on. It was a silly thing to do just because there had been the radio silence so far, but the act made him feel the tiniest bit better.

His main focus was on scouring each and every building thoroughly while the two security officers with him watched his back. The first four small domes they encountered were homes of families who wouldn't meet his eyes, and that included their youngsters. The fifth dome was a schoolhouse, and the sixth structure was an open hangar with two tack rooms, a few crop-dusters, and muddy farming equipment that had been brought in from the fields.

It was with waning hope that he moved on to the barn. The emptiness and silence inside depressed him further. One of the security officers went up the ladder to look around the loft. Leonard scanned the lower level, located an empty side room, and scanned that too.

He turned away, not expecting any results, so the chirp of the tricorder nearly made him jump. He looked at the readout more closely and frowned.

 _Weird. Concentrated moisture in the air._

Returning to the small room, he walked its perimeter until he located a spot on the wall that had high-moisture readings. There he opened his medkit, retrieved two swabs, and carefully wiped one across the surface. He stuck that swab into a tube for lab work. The second swabbed sample he stuck into the side of the tricorder for a quick breakdown of composition.

Fungal in nature, the tricorder told him. High bacteria content. Origins unknown.

Not good. Leonard hoped whatever was growing behind the walls wasn't an infection of the variety that inhabited humanoid hosts. He didn't have the proper equipment to take a reading for airborne spores.

"Doctor McCoy," called the officer who had drifted into the room behind him.

Leonard hurriedly saved the results and crossed to the other side of the room. "What is it?"

The officer pointed a light beam at the floor. "Look. Is that blood?"

Recognizing the red sheen was almost instinctual. Leonard sank to his knees and flicked open his medkit again. In the back of his mind, he noted that his hands didn't shake as he took a sample and analyzed it.

The tricorder confirmed that the sample came from a human. Then it told Leonard his worst fear.

"Find out where Spock is," he said, still kneeling, heart starting to pound.

"Sir?"

"It's blood, all right." Leonard swallowed hard. "And it belongs to Captain Kirk."

* * *

Jim came to in what he first thought was a prison cell. Gradually, as his senses returned, he realized the ceiling was far too high and the floor was weirdly uneven and lumpy. He couldn't tell the shape or size of the room but that in large part was due to the pitiful light that came from above, not his spinning head.

"Captain Kirk?"

The whisper sounded like a child's. It was Ram who leaned into Kirk's line of vision. He looked frightened.

"I thought you were dying."

Jim bit down on a snarky remark and chastised himself, _You're spending too much time with Bones._

Ram looked even more concerned, for the young man didn't know the reason behind Jim's stifled snort.

Jim sighed and went about the painstaking business of sitting up. There was a horrifying moment when everything started to lose color and slide together but Jim blinked several times until his vision stabilized. He also overcame an urge to throw up.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Inside one of the silos," Ram replied a little too breathlessly, eyes wide.

Jim didn't need to look at him too long to guess what the trouble was. "You're claustrophobic?"

"...I guess so."

Great. "It's okay," Jim said. He took one of Ram's hands in his own. "Look at me, Ramses. I'm with you."

"That's... not something to be proud of, sir." Ram's voice cracked. "They pulled up the ladder. We can't get out."

In the semi-darkness, Jim could barely discern the small platform jutting out from the edge of the curved wall. He estimated it was more than the height of two men, which was bad news for them. "Damn," he cursed, this time aloud.

"Yeah," agreed Ram. "Damn."

Jim patted the young man's shoulder without thinking about it. "Help me stand?"

Together, they came to their feet.

"Can you see the opposite wall?"

"Yes, sir. My eyes adjusted a while ago. But, uh, technically we're in a cylinder. It's all one wall."

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know that, Ram. Just... count our steps."

Ram counted them far louder than necessary, in Jim's opinion.

The packed grain was remarkably brittle. It crackled underfoot as they carefully moved across the silo. At one point, Jim's foot slid on a strange slick patch and he nearly fell, managing to catch and steady himself just in the nick of time. When he instinctively looked down for the cause, he saw that he had churned up the dry surface to expose a layer of darker, wetter grain heads. An odor wafted up that had him covering his nose with the sleeve of his tunic.

The pair moved forward, eventually finding the far wall. Jim put his back to it and gratefully dropped down into a sitting position. His eyes had finally adjusted to the low lighting so he watched Ram sit as well and fold his knees into his chest.

The horrid smell, having pervaded most of the silo by then, scratched at Jim's memory. He stubbornly refused to go down that path and forced himself to study the smooth interior instead. It was odd that there was no second ladder to span the height of the structure. He could see that there was a trapdoor in the cone-shaped roof, but could anyone get up there?

Damn, damn, damn. This would be the perfect time to be wearing a pair of rocket boots.

Ram remarked, seemingly out of nowhere, "Grain's rotting."

Jim closed his eyes, stomach turning for a reason other than the smell. _No escape, Kirk. Just face it._

He opened his eyes and asked, "Do you know why?"

The young man shook his head. "But I heard the head foremen talking with my father. Our lab couldn't identify the strain of infection. It's not any of the ones we know about. He wanted to bring in specialists." Ram picked at a loose thread on his jumpsuit. "Dad said no."

Jim ground his back teeth. There were only a few reasons he could think of why Tappan would deny the request for help, and he didn't like any of them.

"I know what you're thinking," said Ram. "It's not... like that. Dad _is_ right. Whether or not we have help, we've lost at least a year's crop. We were lucky to have enough good grain in storage to send off to market."

Jim thought of the tightly sealed containers in the barn. Yes, that wheat had looked healthy.

Ram lowered his head and brushed fingers through his cropped hair. "There's no way we will finish buying back the rest of the shares on time. Everyone's upset about that. There was one year left. Just one year until this place was ours." Disappointment aged his face. "My friends and I had already started to plan the celebration."

Jim swallowed. He understood. Oh, how he understood. "Under the circumstances, wouldn't your sponsor be willing to grant you leniency on your yield quota?"

"At what cost?" Ram asked bitterly. "Another five years to the contract?"

 _Who would be that heartless?_ Jim wanted to ask, but he was well-aware that there still existed conglomerates who only cared for the strength of their business and profit margins rather than the people who made their success possible.

He laid a hand on Ram's shoulder. "There are others who would help you. The Federation was founded on the tenets of brotherhood and charity—and there's no shame in needing either. Helping each other is what keeps us strong and united."

Ram looked at him. "Even if we did something horrible, would you still help us?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

"I believe in second chances. People can learn from their mistakes, Ram. They simply have to be willing to."

Ram stayed quiet for a long time. Jim allowed him the time to think, for he needed to do some thinking of his own.

Tappan insisted Tassos III was going to be independent soon, despite knowing that the colony faced significant financial losses and years of recovery. That meant he had figured out an alternative plan for ending their sponsorship. What had he called it? Rebirth? Kodos had used the word sacrifice.

Bitter, Jim wondered if there would be any difference in the outcome.

His scratched memory finally began to bleed.

Throat working, he stared at the meager sunlight seeping in through the cracks of the trapdoor.

Next to him, Ram shifted. "I'll help you," he said, picking up the thread of their conversation once again.

 _Why did they have to die, Jimmy?_

Sacrifice.

 _If he finds us, will we die too?_

"Captain?"

The title helped. Jim broke the surface of the bad memory and he looked at Ram. What he saw was youth and innocence which hadn't yet lived through the horror of Kodos.

Tappan. He meant Tappan.

 _Snap out of it, Jim!_

Jim sat up straighter, then, surprised the Bones voice was still with him. "I would be grateful for your help, Ram."

Ram's nod was grave, as was his next request: "In return, sir, I hope you can forgive us."

Jim forced himself to smile and lied, "I already have, son."

He would find a way to make that lie become truth later. For now, it only mattered that the boy believed him.


	6. Part Six

The woman who entered the hall had not attended the meeting, and that caused a stir among the ones who did. Some of them looked at her with distrust or contempt; others slighted her outright by turning their backs. She ignored them all, however, for her focus was on a particular person chatting amiably with a crowd of people on the other side of the room.

Her voice cracked like a whip across the distance: " _Augustus._ "

A smiling Tappan turned around, his countenance brightening further. It was a signal of sorts to those with him; the group quietly dispersed. It wasn't until Leta reached Tappan that he spoke.

"My dear, there you are. I had begun to worry that you were angry with me."

Karen was angry but she knew the futility of expressing that anger. "I needed a moment to myself. What is this I hear about new arrivals?"

Augustus slid an arm across her lower back, anchoring the woman to his side. "Kirk's crew, of course. They came here to find him."

The look she gave him was politely curious. "Will they?"

His mouth quirked. "Oh they should, my darling. They absolutely should!"

She swallowed a sigh and leaned into him ever-so-slightly, her emotions at war.

Tappan made the assumption she was silently requesting his support, and his arm tightened about her waist. The look in his eyes turned soft, and that startled Karen. It had been a while since she had seen such softness—and _him_ , the man she had fallen in love with long ago. It wasn't just nostalgia which struck her in that moment but also pain.

When he leaned in to kiss her, she didn't resist.

"What's wrong?" the man asked after he pulled away, finding and brushing away the trail of a tear.

 _Everything_ , Karen thought. "I feel afraid," she told him, which was true.

He looked puzzled.

"Of our future, Augustus. The... possibilities scare me."

This time he drew her completely against him. "Our future will be glorious, Karen. There is nothing to fear."

 _I fear you._ Those were words she could never say. "I don't feel as certain as you do."

"Then trust in my certainty."

"Oh, Augustus."

"Hm?" he murmured against her hair.

Karen gently pushed him back. For a moment, she thought she saw surprise in his eyes but whatever he felt was quickly masked. The man she didn't want to love had returned.

"You are stressed," he said in a silky voice. "You should rest. It will help you gain a fresh perspective on things."

"Perhaps so, but not even sleep will ease my conscience."

Tappan studied her in silence for too long. "I... see." He started to say something else but stopped, glancing away. Then he beckoned over one of the men who always seemed to follow him around.

Karen tried not to tense up.

"Longwell, allow me to introduce Ambassador Leta. Karen, this is Marcus Longwell. Mr. Longwell is one of the more recent newcomers to our colony."

As Longwell stared at her, Karen's skin crawled. She put her hand on Tappan's arm. "Augustus..."

Tappan gave her one of his empty smiles. "Mr. Longwell will watch over you, Karen."

"Don't be foolish," she snapped. "I don't want or have need of a bodyguard!"

"You feel unsafe. Of course you require one."

Karen took a step back and folded her arms across her chest. "No," she said firmly.

Tappan chuckled. "So stubborn. I've always appreciated that about you." He said to Longwell, "Be wary of her temper—"

Leta's face colored with fury.

"—and, please," Tappan added, tone magnanimous, "try to remain respectful of her privacy."

"Augustus!"

Tappan smiled once again and left her alone with Longwell.

"You," she warned the man who eyed her with caution, "will stay away from me."

"I do as the Governor says, Miss Leta."

"It's _Ambassador_ , Mr. Longwell," Karen corrected coldly, "and Augustus Tappan is not your governor."

Longwell snorted. "Not yet."

She suspected Longwell was the kind of man whose opinion and loyalty came with an expensive price tag. Spinning on her heel, she marched away, intent on finding at least one door she could slam to her satisfaction, preferably in Longwell's face. It only made her more furious that the fool dared to follow her.

A question occurred to her then that gave her pause.

Just how much had Tappan paid for this man's—and the others'—support?

* * *

"Inconclusive."

Leonard stared at his companion. "Excuse me?"

Spock studied the readings on his tricorder, which had to be the same as Leonard's, and stated again, "Inconclusive, Dr. McCoy. The evidence suggests Captain Kirk was inside this facility at some point in time, nothing more."

"The blood is barely dry!"

"The concentration of moisture in the air may have contributed to such a state. Doctor, there is a dearth of information. What we know is simply not enough to support a conclusion concerning the circumstances of this evidence."

Angry, Leonard moved into Spock's personal space. "God forbid you should come upon the scene of a _murder_ , Mr. Spock. You'd look at the smears of blood on the walls and say it might have been done as a work of art!"

 _Bones_ , he heard the Jim-like admonishment in his head but ignored it. "If you want facts, I'll give them to you: Jim is hurt and we can't find him! If these colonists cared one iota about helping us, they would have joined our search, to prove their innocence if nothing else! So what we can _conclude_ is that they have an ulterior motive, and I'd bet you every last credit of my salary and savings that includes keeping us from our missing crew!"

Spock's eyes had darkened at the start of the doctor's rant; now they glittered like chips of black ice. But he said nothing to Leonard, nothing at all for a full minute, which had Leonard cautiously drawing back. The officers of both their teams had made themselves scarce sometime during the interim, he realized then.

"I regret my decision," the Vulcan commander said at last.

Leonard slowly drew in a breath, released it, and asked, "What's that mean?"

"You should not be here."

Leonard almost flinched. "For being so staunchly against violence, you sure know where to twist the knife, don't you, Spock?"

"As do you, Leonard."

The doctor resisted the urge to take another step back. Spock _never_ used his first name. Hearing how he said it now made Leonard kind of sick to his stomach.

But he knew when to stand his ground. "I'll be plain, Commander. I don't care if you think I'm emotionally compromised. I don't care if you hate me right now. That part that's human in you knows I'm right. Our Captain is in danger. So do whatever you think you need to concerning me—hell, lock me in a room somewhere and have one of Giotto's men keep watch—I won't protest. Not as long as you do your damnedest to find Jim. That means letting no one fool you. Don't dismiss the smallest clue, even if it's a drop of blood on a dirty floor, and look everywhere, whether or not it makes any sense. That's all I ask."

Spock stared at him without reacting.

Leonard sighed through his nose and walked out of the room. He was aware of the Vulcan following him at a much slower pace.

"Mr. Spock," called one of the security officers, "take a look at this."

Spock veered away. The lieutenant handed a strip of plastic to the Vulcan and pointed at the lower half of one of the beams that supported the roof. Leonard listened to them discuss the scratches and, after a minute, swallowed and turned away. He couldn't bear to hear what Spock might say. He left the barn.

What if Spock really did lock him up somewhere? Damn it, he shouldn't have lost his temper. Under other circumstances he might have reined himself in, or Jim might have dropped a calming hand to his shoulder.

Only, Jim was the very reason for his lack of self-control. Just how could Spock remain so calm, knowing that someone had deliberately shed Jim's blood in that room?

And it was deliberate, of that Leonard was certain. It seemed as though everything which had occurred on this planet so far was borne of a deliberate act. Someone had cut the communication with the Enterprise; someone had blocked their ship's scans; someone had reduced an entire space shuttle to free-floating particles.

It had to be Tappan. It _was_ Tappan. Leonard simply needed to locate him and make him talk. Somehow.

Too focused on his flyaway thoughts, Leonard nearly ran into the person he had failed to recognize was blocking his path.

The farmer fixed a narrow-eyed gaze on the doctor. His drawl was much thicker than Leonard's and far less honeyed. "You're a doctor."

Leonard didn't like the way the man was looking at him, but he didn't see a point in lying. "Yes, I am a doctor."

"...Suppose I could use your services."

Perusing the man from head to toe, Leonard remarked, "You look healthy to me."

The man bared his teeth in a parody of a grin. "It's one of my... good friends who needs your help."

 _Is this a trap?_ wondered Leonard. He glanced back at the closed doors of the barn.

The man took a hold of Leonard's right shoulder, his grip just shy of bruising.

Leonard reached for his communicator on instinct.

"Don't," he was warned.

The man then jerked the doctor close and jabbed something just beneath his rib cage. Leonard dropped his gaze and, for several seconds, stared blankly at the business end of one of their Starfleet-issued phasers.

"I can guess where you got that," he said. "What did you do to Captain Kirk?"

"Forget Kirk. You're coming with me." The man detached Leonard's communicator and tossed it aside.

Leonard relaxed. A smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. "I guess I am."

As the colonist forced the doctor to move in front of him and walk away from the barn, he couldn't have seen the strange look in Leonard's eyes. Even if he had, he wouldn't have surmised the train of thought behind it, for no one in their right mind would consider it their good fortune to land in the hands of an enemy.

No one, that was, except Leonard Horatio McCoy on the hunt for James T. Kirk.

* * *

Lakshminarayanan Sandeep Balasubramaniam (otherwise simply known as Sandeep since everyone was too intimidated by the length of his full name to say it except for family and a certain Vulcan First Officer) had been part of the flagship crew long enough to identify the Powers That Be. Luckily, the Powers That Be were the kind of people who cared about the welfare of their subordinates and maintained a code of honor that in turn allowed others to feel honorable about serving them. On the downside, though, when the Powers That Be weren't happy with each other, the impact rocked the whole ship.

Recently there had been a taste of that, which was why Sandeep and his fellow security officers scattered the moment Dr. McCoy looked like he was preparing for target practice with Mr. Spock as his bull's-eye. Tensions had been high in general since they left the ship, but for those two the tension had grown more volatile. It wouldn't be fair to say Captain Kirk was at fault—except, to Sandeep's way of thinking, he _was_ partly responsible since he had left Spock and McCoy alone during a time when their relationship was already notably strained.

Now Sandeep wondered if that relationship had reached a breaking point. They weren't working together in any kind of coordinated fashion, not as they had in times past when Kirk encountered trouble. It was awful to watch, actually, because he had been around during the formative years of their friendship and what he saw right now was all of that progress coming undone. The catalyst, ironically, was Kirk. It seemed almost counterintuitive, for Kirk brought their two clashing personalities together in a harmonious way, proving that Spock and McCoy actually complemented each other when in tandem. But without him, they were grating, discordant—and spiraling fast into chaos.

Not that Sandeep would ever tell anyone he had contemplated this matter so deeply. It was a fact that most of the ship found the three COs fascinating. A third of those turned them into interesting gossip. A third of that third actively tried to perform scientific studies on Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. Sandeep, on the other hand, was willing to allow them their privacy as long as they didn't turn into a force of evil or, worse yet, simply fall apart.

Unfortunately the balance between the Powers That Be had shifted dramatically in the last week alone, and the metaphorical sky was falling. No one had dared to ask why. Some speculated that it had always been imminent. How could a triumvirate with that much dynamic, that much pull on the universe, exist without going supernova or collapsing in on itself?

Sandeep did not adhere to that theory, of course. He thought that Kirk, Spock, and McCoy were more than capable of co-existing. They had proved many times over that as a team they could beat the odds. This time was different because the conflict was internal. They were going up against themselves. Anybody, he thought, would struggle with that. With time and patience he hoped they would overcome the issue—given that, he mused grimly, one of them (namely Jim Kirk) didn't die before the riff could be mended.

Sandeep sighed long and low, pulling out of his thoughts, and placed a quick call to Giotto. He updated his superior that the two teams' whereabouts remained unchanged. It was only when he closed his communicator that he realized he had no actual visual on Dr. McCoy, thus making his report partially a lie since Giotto had been specific in the Security briefing that looking out for each other was as equally important as searching for those who went missing.

He recalled that McCoy had left the barn. No one had followed the doctor because everyone's attention had been diverted by Lt. Danson finding evidence which suggested Kirk and the others beinng held as hostages was more than just supposition.

Thinking he would retrieve Dr. McCoy before something bad happened, he went outside. To his horror, all he found was a communicator lying abandoned on the ground.

Sandeep had never been skilled at cursing but in that moment he made up some impressive phrases which would have shocked everyone in his home village. Racing around the sides of the barn, he alternated between praying and using these curse words. When a visual sweep of the area proved fruitless, he ran back into the barn.

Panic must have been written all over his face. The other security officers whipped out phasers. Commander Spock, by contrast, literally dropped what he was doing and snapped upright.

"Report, Lieutenant," the Vulcan ordered.

Sandeep told them McCoy was gone. He also told them he hadn't found signs of struggle but had recovered the doctor's communicator.

Mr. Spock took the communicator from him slowly, almost like it was too terrible to touch, then stared at it for the longest time.

The tension in the barn became palatable as the subordinates awaited orders. Yet Mr. Spock, who was always the voice of reason in an upsetting situation, had no words for them, not even a reprimand for letting McCoy walk out alone. Kirk would have barked, "Fan out and find him!" relying on the hope there was time yet to catch whoever had taken McCoy.

If Mr. Spock was thinking of such a scenario, he gave no indication. He certainly didn't act on it. In fact, his expression remained so disturbingly blank, Sandeep had a suspicion the Vulcan might have ceased to think at all.

Spock eventually stirred, closed his hand around the communicator. Sounding much too calm and collected, he said, "The search is over."

The officer standing at Mr. Spock's elbow looked shocked. Sandeep fought to keep his own jaw from dropping. Call off the search? No one had been expecting to hear _that_.

Mr. Spock flipped open his own communicator. "Spock to Giotto."

" _Giotto here_."

"Abort search and report to me at the central dome."

The silence from the other end of the line only lasted for a second. " _Understood, Commander. Giotto out._ "

As the Vulcan moved with purpose for the barn's exit, Sandeep couldn't help but voice his concern, a concern he was certain the others shared. "Why are we quitting the search, sir?"

"We are not quitting, Lt. Balasubramaniam." Mr. Spock spared a glance over his shoulder for Sandeep, and Sandeep saw at last that Mr. Spock was far from unaffected by McCoy's disappearance. "We are changing our strategy."

Somebody, the lieutenant realized, had just pushed his normally placid commanding officer into a deep rage.

Suddenly Sandeep was no longer concerned about the survival of the Powers That Be. No, the ones to feel concern for, or rather pity, were the idiots who had taken Captain Kirk _and_ Dr. McCoy away from Mr. Spock.

As everyone hurried out of the barn, Danson caught up to Sandeep and whispered to him, "Should we say anything about Mr. Spock? He looks..."

 _Murderous?_ Sandeep filled in silently. _Terrifying? Like that popular picture in the history books of a pre-Reform Vulcan wearing a necklace made of the teeth from his most recent victims?_

"Not on your life," he whispered back.

Danson fiercely nodded his agreement.

* * *

Tassos III had a decent-sized medical facility, Leonard noted, but no staff. Did no one remain in the building on the off chance that an emergency case was rushed in? Leonard couldn't fathom why the medical protocols would be any different on this colony than any other or than that of a starship or a primary planet also in the Federation.

"That way," the man behind McCoy said, prodding him to take a right from the outer ward.

The corridor ended at a double set of doors of an OR. Inside, a man was lying unconscious on a gurney in the far corner under a blanket. His face was covered in sweat; his lips were bloodless.

"What happened?" Leonard questioned as he hurried over to the patient. He switched the settings on his tricorder to a general scan and waved the device around the man's head, then down his neck and across his chest. "Tell me what happened," he repeated more firmly, "or I might treat him improperly."

Leonard's kidnapper took a wide-legged stance at one end of the gurney and said, sparser than ever with details, "There was a fight."

The tricorder shrieked over the lower abdomen. Leonard peeled back the edge of a blanket and sucked in a breath. The tricorder had recorded stats that he recognized all too well. "You should have started by mentioning the knife wound. How long has he been like this?" The blood flow wasn't heavy, nor was it congealed.

"You're the doctor. You figure it out."

"Thank you, Mr. Helpful. Now quit hoverin'. Move this gurney under that middle light." Leonard stripped the blanket off his patient after he had been relocated. "Remove his boots but be careful not to jar him."

"He's not gonna wake up."

"I'm more concerned about his internal damage, not his state of consciousness." Leonard grumbled to himself, "We need to get rid of this damn jumpsuit."

His kidnapper turned out to be quite the efficient helper in a sick room.

Once removed, Leonard bunched up the jumpsuit and shoved into the man's hands. "Dispose of that."

The man didn't move, just watched Leonard cross to the other side of the room. He said in warning, "Don't bother trying to run away. I'll catch you."

Leonard snorted and inspected the various cabinets, gathering the supplies he needed, including a few old-fashioned tools. "You brought me here to help this man, and I fully intend to. If you want him to live, which I would say so, then stow your aggression and allow me to do my work. We can discuss the terms of my captivity later." _And I'll worry about my own plans then too._

The facility wasn't under-stocked but it did not have everything Leonard would have liked it to. He had saved lives with less, however, and so he felt fairly confident that performing surgery here wasn't going to put the injured man at further risk.

He sterilized his hands, then the necessary equipment. "Does he have a name?"

"What's it matter?"

"I think it's polite to introduce myself before I cut a man open."

Silence. Then, "Greene."

Leonard rolled a small table to the side of the gurney. "Hello there, Mr. Greene. I'm Dr. McCoy. I'll be the physician performing your surgery." Leonard shot a look at the man who was fully conscious. "Have you had any field training in trauma care?"

"No," was the gruff response.

"You're able to. Go wash your hands. And if you don't have a strong stomach, you have about three minutes to acquire one."

From then on, Leonard gave most of his attention to the patient, though he made certain his helper didn't stay idle. Half of an hour passed before Leonard had regenerated what he could and stitched up the rest. He was taping a square of gauze over the patient's sutured wound when he was asked tersely, "What next?"

Leonard lifted an eyebrow. "Your friend needs a blood transfusion."

For the first time, his kidnapper looked unsettled, not-so-subtly hiding the crook of his arm.

Leonard commented dryly, "Not your blood. There are packs in the frig. When was the last time y'all had a supply run?"

"How should I know that?"

"In a community this size, you should. Unless you've been living under a rock."

The man growled at him.

Leonard didn't flinch. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Have you been living under a rock?"

"No." The man looked away, seemed to come to some decision before his gaze returned to Leonard. "There have been no supply runs for seven weeks."

Leonard interpreted that statement as "In other words, you've only been on Tassos III for roughly two months."

The man stared at him without answering.

Leonard wondered why that bit of information had to be so closely guarded but decided not to question the matter further. Instead he said, "Bring two bags of Type O," and turned back to his patient.

After a short pause, the fellow went to the one of the glass-front refrigerators and peered into it with a pensive expression.

Leonard straightened out the unconscious man's left arm and had moved onto the right arm when he caught a glimpse of something that made him lift the man's arm higher. Picking up his tricorder with his free hand, he scanned the underside. The reading wasn't out of the ordinary, and that surprised Leonard.

The skin rash started at the armpit, ran to the elbow and, strangely, had the discoloration of a day-old bruise.

Leonard lowered the man's arm and started again from the crown of the head with his tricorder. A full sweep yielded nothing insightful; the results were consistent with what he expected.

He switched the tricorder off, set it in his lap, and rubbed his knuckles against his mouth in thought. He was startled when two packets of blood were shoved under his nose.

"What next?" the man beside him asked again.

Leonard replied, "I guess I teach you how to find a vein."

* * *

Karen slowly fanned herself and contemplated her options while staring at the closed door to her personal room. Augustus's watchdog was just outside, no doubt thinking her temper had exhausted itself and she fell asleep. Little did he know she preferred to brood for long periods of time and, if possible, to plot a coup.

Her eyes narrowed.

Augustus was an idiot if he thought she would stay put. He had to knew her better than that, which meant he must have given Longwell orders to make certain she stayed imprisoned. And that, she decided, would not be tolerated.

With a wicked smile, she strode to a curio-table, picked up a vase of wildflowers there, and threw it straight at the wall. It shattered into pieces across the floor. Then, gracefully, she collapsed into a heap.

Longwell rushed into the room.

Karen's hand flew out. "Stop, watch out!" she cried. Then she gave him a pitiful look. "I only wanted to refill the vase. I tripped and dropped it."

The man stood motionless, blinking stupidly at the mess of water, glass, and flowers as if of all the situations he was prepared to deal with, a clumsy woman wasn't included in any of them.

Karen made a point of sniffling as she touched a bare foot. "Oh no, I think there's glass in my foot." With weak effort, she tried to stand up.

Longwell skirted the table and came over to help her.

"The bathroom, please," she said, clinging to him.

He escorted the limping woman to the other side of the room. Just as he started to usher her inside the bathroom, she halted him and gripped the doorjamb, wiping at the non-existent tears in her eyes.

"You're too kind, sir," she thanked him with a tiny smile.

"Uh," began Longwell, coloring rising in his face, "you're... welcome?"

Karen's eyes hardened. "Fool," she said, and punched him straight in the nose.

The man wheeled backwards, and she gave him an extra shove via a foot to his groin to tip him the rest of the way over. Then she slammed her palm against the door sensor and the bathroom door slid shut.

"Engage lock," she ordered. "Override only by voice command of Karen Leta."

" _Engaged,_ " the panel beeped.

In the aftermath, she brushed off the sleeves of her blouse and went to pick up her discarded boots. There was much to be done, foremost of which would be to find out where Kirk had been taken.

Pausing as she rolled a sock over one of her feet, she changed her mind.

She would find her son first and make certain he had somewhere safe to hide. It was possible Augustus would try to use Ram to keep her in line, especially if he had already guessed that she wanted to thwart him.

Yes, Ramses must come before anyone. It was the least that she could do as his mother.

* * *

"Captain? Captain Kirk?"

Jim came awake with a start and felt disoriented. Had he fallen asleep? Rubbing at his tired eyes, he asked Ram, "How long was I out?"

"I'm not sure, sir."

Jim checked the streaks of sunlight on the silo wall, saw that they had moved position. He estimated that he had been out for over an hour. At least, he thought humorlessly, the foul odor had improved. That, or his sense of smell had finally stopped working.

As he shifted against the wall, he felt pain and cursed, forgetting momentarily about the impressionable young man next to him. The only good that had come from sleeping (or passing out, whichever it had really been) was that he wasn't bothered by the persistent itching which had been driving him crazy. At first he figured he had gotten some of the loose grain down his tunic but shaking out the material hadn't provided any relief. Now, with his nerves waking up, his arms had gone from itchy to burning.

He pulled up a sleeve to reveal the discolored skin of his forearm. He touched part of it and bit back another curse as the fiery burn spread up his arm.

"Captain? What's wrong?" An anxious Ram scooted closer as Jim continued to inspect his arm. "What caused that?" the young man wanted to know, going from anxious to alarmed.

"I wish I knew," Jim replied. "It hurts like hel..." He coughed, amended, "Like heck," and tugged his sleeve back into place. "I must be allergic to something in here." Which, considering his list of odd allergies, was entirely possible.

Ram grew silent.

When the young man began to stare at Jim in a grim way, Jim said, "Ramses?"

"Does it itch?"

"What?"

Ram looked grimmer. "Does it itch—the rash? Are you hot? Does anything else hurt?"

Jim had a sinking feeling that Ram wasn't just questioning him out of morbid curiosity. "Yes, yes, and no."

Ram closed his eyes. Jim reached out to grab him but stopped himself before he made contact.

"I think you're going to need that doctor you were talking about in your sleep," said Ram in a near-whisper. "You're sick, Mr. Kirk."

Jim retracted his arm and balled his hands into fists in his lap. "I don't follow you."

"I didn't figure it out until just now. I'm sorry." He sounded upset. "Since it was just them, we thought they had picked up something off-planet."

"Who?" Jim demanded. "Picked up what?"

"The new guys—Walken and his friends. My dad commissioned their services a couple of months ago. Some of them have fallen ill recently. They developed that rash first," Ram said, pointing at Jim's arm.

Jim leaned back against the wall and tried to quell his rising panic. He had a good idea of where Ram's explanation was headed. "You thought the cause of their illness wasn't related to the colony, but I have the same symptoms. Basically, the cause exists _here_." He meant that literally. "The infected grain. Have I guessed right?"

"I'm sorry, Captain, I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

When Ram reached for him, Jim warned him, "Don't."

Ram insisted, "It's okay, I think I'm immune. No one—I mean, none of the settlers have gotten sick."

"It doesn't matter. We'll take no chances." He softened his tone. "This next question is important, Ram. I need to know. Has anyone died?"

The answer was silence.

Jim closed his eyes and swallowed hard. _Bones... Bones, if you were here. No. No, you idiot, don't wish anything like this on Bones!_

Oh god, what about Andrew, Blanca, and Joran? They would be no more immune than he was.

Jim placed a hand to his face, feeling too hot and stifled all of a sudden.

"Captain? Captain!"

Jim's eyes jerked open. "Did I pass out again?"

"No, Captain, look!"

He did and saw what Ram was pointing at. The hatch wheel was turning. Somebody was coming for them... or coming to get them.

Pushing aside everything—the pain, the fever, and terrible, too-familiar memories—Jim jumped to his feet and locked his jaw. No matter who was on the other side of that door, he and Ram were getting out of this silo for good!


	7. Part Seven

Listening to the scratchy noise coming over the open channel, a significant change from the frequency's dead silence an hour ago, Chief Engineer Scott praised, "This is fine work, lass."

"Don't say that yet," Uhura warned him, though her expression indicated that she was pleased by the compliment. "Thank me when the pattern becomes intelligible."

"I'll do more than that! Next time we dock, ye can have the fanciest dinner ye want on my tab!"

Her look, at first surprised, turned speculative. "You don't have to buy me dinner for doing my job, sir."

Scotty's face colored.

"However..." The corners of the woman's mouth turned up the tiniest bit. "...I would consider the invitation if it came along with the company of a friend."

Her companion's blush deepened. "I, ah, that is... a friend, you say?"

He never received her reply, for they were both distracted by a frantic beeping from her control panel.

"Incoming message," announced Uhura, her mellifluous tone turning business-like.

"From?" he queried, placing a hand on the back of her chair and leaning over her shoulder.

She swiveled in her chair to look directly at him, two fingers pressed to her earpiece. "Starfleet." Her mouth flattened a moment later. "A cease-and-desist order. They want us to recall the search party."

Scotty stared at her, sifting through the implications of what she had said. "How," he wanted to know, lowering his voice, thereby deepening his brogue, "did they find out? I specifically recall Mr. Spock asking you to delay the status report until we knew more about the situation on Tassos III."

Their gazes met, held.

"I am not certain," Uhura answered at last, the hidden meaning in that statement quite clear: _But I will find out._

The Chief Engineer gave her brief nod and backed away, his expression grim.

The Enterprise had a rat onboard. Could things possibly get worse?

* * *

The small patient ward was eerily quiet, barring the steady beep of one active biobed. At the back of the room, Leonard watched his adversary, and his adversary watched him. Eventually, when the doctor had had his fill of the strained silence between them, he demanded, "Aren't you going to say something?"

The man smirked.

Leonard cut him off as he opened his mouth. "Spare me the threats. I've heard plenty of those already." He crossed his arms over his chest. "What's your name?" At the lack of response, he rolled his eyes heavenward and pointed out, "It's not going to matter if I know."

"Tom," came the grudging reply.

"Tom," Leonard said, "you've got a major problem on your hands."

Tom's expression turned sour. "Don't I know it."

Leonard ignored that insinuation. He raised one finger. "First, you've kidnapped a Starfleet officer. I may not be high-ranking but my captain certainly is. He's our golden boy, you know. A lot of admirals are going to take offense to you messing with Kirk. Second," he raised his voice to talk over any pithy remark Tom might have made, "you've pissed _me_ off." He pushed away from the counter he had been leaning against. "I really don't like it when people hurt my friends. I've half a mind to show you what my right cross can do."

"You could try," Tom taunted.

"I would succeed," Leonard corrected.

The man's upper lip curled.

"Watch it, mister! You're asking for trouble," Leonard snapped in warning, then blinked. That had sounded an awful lot like Jim. Time to change tactics. "Tell me where Kirk is."

"No."

"Then take me to where Kirk is."

Tom's mouth twisted into an ugly smile. "Maybe he's six feet under. You still wanna see him?"

Leonard didn't believe that. Refused to. "Tom, consider my offer while I'm being reasonable. If you take me to Captain Kirk, I'll testify at your hearing that you cooperated. It could minimize your sentencing significantly."

"I won't be goin' to prison, Doctor. I'm exactly where I belong."

 _No choice then_ , thought McCoy. He would have to take this brute down.

He started to move forward but caught sight of a shadow behind Tom that didn't belong there. Always quick at thinking on his feet, he used his forward momentum as a pivoting motion instead, purposefully turning his back to his captor and walking in the opposite direction.

As expected, Tom jumped up to catch him, thinking Leonard was up to no good. He began to demand, "Where in hell do you think you're—"and never saw the blow to the back of his head coming.

Tom was a big fellow. The blow stunned him but didn't take him all the way down. Leonard's hand closed around a hypospray hidden in his pocket and with great satisfaction he jabbed it into the side of the man's neck. When Tom reached for him, he stepped out of the way. The man collapsed as the sedative quickly took effect.

"Well," drawled the doctor, "that was anticlimactic." Then he looked at the newcomer with interest.

She straightened up and tossed the bedpan in her hand aside. "Thank you for distracting him, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard grinned and pulled the woman into a hug. "Blanca, you're a sight for sore eyes!"

She huffed against his shoulder, then pushed him away, growing serious. "Sir, I'm the one who should be grateful. Lt. Joran needs your help. He's in bad condition."

Leonard was already gathering up his tricorder and medkit as she spoke. "Before you give me the details about the patient who isn't here, tell me about the one who is. What happened to your face?"

He heard the triumph in her voice as she replied, "A head-butt, sir."

"Whose?"

"Mine."

"Next you'll be telling me I should see the other guy."

"You should."

He snorted as he waved the tricorder over her face. "Your nose is fractured. What's your pain level?"

"Help Joran first."

He reluctantly agreed to wait. "Then what's the rest of the story? What happened to y'all?"

Olivares kicked Tom's foot. "More like who happened. This bastard—and a few others." The look in her eyes hardened. "They killed Garrison."

Leonard's heart clenched. Even knowing the answer was right in front of him, he almost couldn't say the words. "And... Captain Kirk? Is he...?"

"He was alive the last time I saw him." But the woman suddenly looked haunted. "I don't know where he was taken." Her jaw line hardened again as she pointed to Tom. " _He_ knows, though."

Leonard closed his eyes, realizing his mistake. "I administered enough sedative to knock out a Klingon troop. He's not going to wake up anytime soon."

Blanca's gaze drifted to the other unconscious man in the room. "Then we'll find somebody else and make him talk."

Leonard hesitated. "Blanca... what's really going on here?"

"I wish I knew, sir. Tappan wants Captain Kirk for some reason. Ambassador Leta betrayed us to him. This trip was a setup from the beginning."

Leonard forced himself to swallow a curse. "You can tell me the rest on the way. Take me to Joran."

She nodded and led the way from the room. "Andy's with him. We took down the group holding us and ran. One of them got away."

"The man I operated on," Leonard guessed.

"Yes. I came here because I needed to do something for Joran. I couldn't just..." The woman swallowed hard before she finished. "...watch him die."

Leonard said, "You did the right thing."

"If I hadn't been lucky enough to find you here, Dr. McCoy, I doubt I would agree with you." She stopped walking and gave him a pleading look. "You can save him, can't you?"

He knew he couldn't make any promises. "I'll try my best, Blanca."

She bowed her head for a moment, then resumed walking again.

Leonard followed her in silence. He wasn't with Jim yet, but he was with Jim's team. He had to believe that was one step closer to his goal. Only once did he glance back over his shoulder, feel a pang of regret that he didn't have the information he really wanted. Then he let the feeling go.

Spock had been right. He was compromised in a way which hampered his judgment, made it difficult to focus. He shouldn't have come on this mission. But now that he was here, there was no turning back.

 _You're a doctor_ , he reminded himself. _Protect and preserve. Jim would expect nothing less._

Yet, despite all, his gut told him he was going to disappointment himself—and Jim—in the end.

* * *

There was no mistaking the person who came through the hatch. Jim bit back his frustration.

"Dad!" Ram called, skidding across the grain to stand in the shadow of the platform. Jim followed him with more caution. "Down here!"

Tappan moved to the platform's edge and laid his hands on the railing. "Good evening, Captain Kirk."

"Dad," Ram called again, waving his arms, "it's me!"

"Ramses, _please_ ," Tappan snapped, "be quiet! I came to speak to Captain Kirk."

Ram staggered. Jim caught his arm.

The young man pulled away. "Dad, you—you knew I was in here? Then _you_ had them..." The words trailed off.

"Ram," Jim said, but Ram shook his head mutely and backed farther away, as far as possible, across the grain again to the opposite wall.

Jim rounded on Tappan, furious. "How can you lock up your own son?"

"To protect Ramses, of course."

"From who?" Jim demanded. "The men who follow _your_ orders?"

"From himself."

"He's not a threat!" Kirk roared. "You are!"

Tappan said nothing for a minute, just drummed his fingers against the metal rail.

"You'll let him out," Jim stated in his most commanding tone. "Drop the ladder."

"Captain, Captain... Your ploy is too obvious."

Jim started to raise his fists, forced himself to lower them. "It's not a ploy, Tappan. I won't climb up, but Ram will. You are _not_ keeping him in here."

"No," came the argument, surprisingly from Ram. Ram raised his voice to carry. "Let him throw me away, Captain. I don't care! I would rather stay with you. At least you give a damn about other people. My father has only ever cared about himself!"

"Ramses!"

"Screw you!" Ram shouted at the man in question.

Tappan broke away from the railing, paced to the ladder's control box on the side of the wall. When he flipped back the panel, Jim broke into a sweat, thought fiercely, _Yes, do it!_

His hope died a moment later as Tappan dropped his hand back to his side and snarled. The man came back to the railing and leaned out over it.

"I will forgive you, Ramses, because you are prone to foolishness. You will see things my way soon enough." Tappan turned his head to stare at Kirk. "Captain, you on the other hand will never know forgiveness. How dare you try to use my own son against me!" He straightened up. "I intended to make a deal with you. Now I have changed my mind."

"I don't make deals with the devil," Jim shot back.

Tappan smiled and drew out an object, held it up for them to see. "Your men are searching for you. I thought you might care to tell them you are alive."

Kirk's heart lodged in his throat as he stared at the communicator. Had Spock sent a team after him? "I don't believe you."

"Ah, but the hope in your voice says otherwise."

"No," Jim refused firmly. "I know what your price is. It will never happen."

Tappan adjusted the glasses resting on his nose, his look shrewd. "Eventually it will, Captain."

"You are truly insane to think I would order the extermination of this colony. Even crazier," he added, "to believe anyone would follow that order."

Tappan tucked away the communicator. "It amuses me that you think you know my true agenda, Kirk. Nonetheless, what you must do is inevitable. Shall I tell you why?" He lost his smile, then. "No, I think we would all be better served for you to find out on your own." He returned to the open hatch, paused there when his son called out to him once more.

Ram returned to Kirk's side. "You can't leave us in here for long. It's a death sentence for Captain Kirk."

Jim gripped the young man's arm, warning him, "Don't bargain with him."

Tappan laughed. "I am well-aware of his condition, my son. It's what makes the captain's decision of the utmost importance. Who should live, and who should die?"

"You're wrong, Tappan. No one has to die." Jim wiped at his forehead, swayed on his feet. Why couldn't he stop sweating?

"Someone always has to die before fools learn," Tappan retorted as he shut the hatch behind him.

When the lock engaged, Jim's legs gave out.

* * *

The presence seated in the middle of the assembly room eclipsed all others. He commanded attention and inspired fear. Perhaps it was the way he looked, so extraordinarily unaffected by the proceedings, fingers steepled and eyes partially hooded in his human-like but not-quite-human-enough face, conjuring in the mind the image of a viper ready to strike. Who would be the victim was currently the main concern of everyone.

The tension in the room slowly climbed to its peak. Just before it could shatter, the man—the Vulcan—singled out a hunched form in a nondescript jumpsuit.

"That one," he said. "Mr. Balasubramaniam, bring him."

Sandeep was quick to obey. He had no desire to find out what would happen if he didn't, for it was clear that Mr. Spock was in no mood to tolerate disobedience. Sandeep took a hold of the man's elbow and escorted him to the middle of the room.

"I ain't done nothing," argued the farmer loudly, dragging his feet along the way. His gaze darted about, landing on everyone except the Vulcan watching him. But when Spock raised his left hand towards the man's face, the man cringed and began to panic in earnest.

"I did nothin', I swear! Don't—don't—" The fellow trembled, staring pale-faced at Spock's extended hand. "—don't hurt me!"

"My next action depends on you," Spock stated very softly. "I require information. Will you give it to me willingly?"

Sandeep paled too. Mr. Spock wasn't actually going to force his way into this man's mind, was he? No, it couldn't be. It was a ploy.

Then again, the Vulcan's voice had been arctic when he had ordered his subordinates to round up as many colonists as they could find. While he hadn't specifically told them to use force, Sandeep suspected Spock wouldn't have batted an eye if they had had to drag people in barely conscious or bloody.

The farmer seemed to be of a different opinion about Vulcans. He slumped in Sandeep's grasp and whimpered, shaking his head in the negative.

Sandeep felt true alarm when Spock leaned forward and pulled the farmer out of his grasp. The man collapsed to his knees and locked his arms over his head in an effort to protect himself.

Sandeep stuttered, "Mr. S-Spock...!" He heard some of the other officers cry out too.

But Spock simply sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers again, his emotionless stare fixed on the human whimpering at his feet. "You waste your tears. I have no inclination to touch your mind."

The man slowly lowered his arms. "You... don't?"

"What would I learn that I do not already know? You are a coward and a miscreant—a creature who acts without thinking, who feels no remorse for his wrongdoing, and who is easily swayed by greed and empty promises. In short, your mind is filth. I would not risk tainting myself with it."

Sandeep's eyes widened. _Well_ , he thought, _that's one way to insult your enemy._

The farmer's fear had turned to anger in the interim. "F-Filth! Filthy, am I?" He scrambled to his feet. "What the hell do you know? Who are you to come to _our_ colony and judge _us_?"

Spock's dark eyes glittered at the challenge. "I am Starfleet."

The man sneered, as did several others.

"And I am placing you—and every adult present—under arrest," said the Vulcan, raising his voice to carry, "on charges of conspiracy to undermine a federal investigation, blatant disregard for law and order, and unprovoked retaliation against my crew. Henceforth, Tassos III is under my jurisdiction." Spock came to his feet, then, at the same time that Giotto gave a subtle signal for the other officers to prepare to close ranks. "To be clear, ladies and gentlemen, you made your choice and now I have made mine. Your settlement rights are hereby suspended. You are no longer citizens of Tassos III. You have one hour to gather your personal belongings and report for deportation."

The room was shocked into silence but only momentarily. Sandeep leaped into action as all hell broke loose. He stunned three charging colonists before he could gather his bearings and move into position. From there, it was like being swarmed by angry hornets. He lost count of how many people he took down.

"Only Mr. Spock," shouted the lieutenant at Sandeep's elbow over the melee as they fired in unison at their attackers, "would have the brass to arrest an entire colony when we don't have enough backup to keep them contained!"

"He lost Kirk," Sandeep shouted back, "then McCoy, which is just like losing his mind! You can't blame him!"

"If we survive," sighed Danson, "I want a commendation for not losing _my_ mind."

"'If' being the keyword!" cried another officer, taking down a crop of people cheerfully. "Ahaha, I knew this would be my last mission!"

"Gentlemen," interrupted Mr. Spock, who zapped people with deadly accuracy, "maintain your focus. There will be time for regret later."

"Aye, sir!" the security team chorused.

Mr. Giotto leaned towards Mr. Spock and said something. Mr. Spock's head whipped around.

Sandeep couldn't help himself. He looked too. "Oh wow!" he said.

"Wow good or wow bad?" Danson demanded. "Bloody hell, where are all these people coming from? I think they're multiplying!"

Sandeep crowed, "Backup has arrived!" and broke into a grin.

"Stay with the Commander!" barked Giotto, for Spock had already moved to the edge of their circle, intent on mowing down as many people as necessary to get across the room.

If their boss hadn't had them practicing moving formations so often, Sandeep was certain their blockade would have fallen apart in that moment. Instead the circle flowed seamlessly with Mr. Spock in the direction he wanted to go. The colonists stopped coming at them in droves, no doubt confused as to why their target was giving ground and running away.

 _Running away we definitely aren't_ , thought Sandeep. His grin broadened when at last he could heard the person Mr. Spock had been aiming for.

" _What on God's green earth is going on?!_ "

"Dr. McCoy," the Vulcan responded, his voice hinting at relief, "you are alive. How... gratifying. Please enter the circle."

"Olivares!" called Giotto. "Get your team over here!"

"Trying, sir!" the woman yelled back.

Blanca had no phaser but that didn't stop her. She knocked heads together with her bare hands. The other officer with her wasn't Garrison but Sandeep recognized him as one of Engineering's boys, Kolarski. He looked like he was having more of a difficult time hanging onto McCoy's flailing arm than fending off attackers.

McCoy was indeed flapping his arms, with a lot of indignation. "My god, it's like World War III in here!"

When they were close enough, Spock reached between two officers, snagged the doctor and unceremoniously dragged him into the circle. Sandeep and the officer knocking elbows with him opened up enough to let Olivares and Kolarski squeeze inside too.

"I can't leave you alone for a second!"

"An ironic choice of words, Doctor."

"That's not my point!"

McCoy ranted about something else but his accent was thicker than usual and Sandeep had difficulty comprehending him. He did heard, "Doctor, please, you are breaking my concentration—" and "—pointy-eared—outta your Vulcan mind!"

He smiled to himself.

At least something good had come out of this mess. Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock were on the same side again.

* * *

When Karen's search didn't turn up her son, she asked people around his age who she thought would be his friends. Most of them denied seeing him around; one young woman said Ram had been in the community hall for a while but where he had gone after that, she didn't know. She then shyly tried to ask Karen a few questions, such as "Are you related to Ram?", which had surprised Karen and made her begin to wonder. Had Ram never told anyone about her? She came to visit him as often as her schedule allowed, and she never tried to hide the fact that she was his mother. That Ram might be ashamed of her, or worse yet prefer others to think she carelessly abandoned him or had simply died, upset her immensely. It was no secret that she was Augustus's lover. She was given that respect when she visited. Yet how could no one know Ram was their son? It made her wonder if Augustus, too, had meant to keep it secret.

That thought infuriated her. After decades of fighting to improve her position among her male superiors, of cultivating her connections to open doors for this colony which would otherwise have remained closed, of traveling the stars alone, and at the end this was her reward? She couldn't lay claim to her own child!

Tappan could withhold his love from her but not Ramses. She would not allow it.

Absorbed by her fury, she almost didn't notice the armed officers until it was too late. They came in through the side entrance of the kitchen. She hid at the back, in an alcove in between two large racks stacked with dry goods. When they were gone, she came out of hiding to find that they had taken the kitchen staff with them.

What was going on? Why were Kirk's men walking about freely? Had they taken down Tappan?

Cautiously she investigated and discovered that the colonists were being herded into the central dome. She entered the building in a roundabout fashion, through a door used only by the engineers who had to access the maintenance shaft in order to work on the exterior shield. Every nook and cranny was empty except for one room; there she found a person laid out along the inner wall. At first she thought he was dead but when she knelt to touch him, she saw his chest rise and fall.

Turning his face towards her, Karen recognized him as Kirk's co-pilot from the Copernicus. His eyes were closed, and his normally pale complexion was nearly translucent, displaying a latticework of blue veins just beneath the thin stretch of skin.

Karen slapped his face. When he didn't respond, she slapped him again, harder.

The officer groaned, blinked open his eyes, and stared at her in confusion.

"What is Kirk up to?" she demanded, then raised her hand threateningly when he didn't respond. "Answer me!"

He turned his face away, whispering, "Traitor."

She curled her fingers in and reluctantly lowered her fist. "That is correct, Lieutenant. I betrayed you. I will make amends if you will tell me where—"

Someone yelled in the hallway. Another person followed suit, and then another.

Karen froze as the voices grew in number as well as volume, followed by the thunder of many people running. Someone or something crashed loudly against the closed door and Karen slapped her hand against her mouth to stifle her shock.

No one came in.

Eventually, when the sounds died down, she withdrew her hand from her mouth. She asked again, "What was that? What is Kirk up to?"

The officer on the ground coughed. His voice came in weak whispers. "Not Kirk. Capt'n. Gone."

"What do you mean?" she asked sharply.

"Took him."

She reached down and shook his shoulder, demanding, "Where is your captain!"

The man closed his eyes. "Gone," he repeated. "With the boy."

This fool was hallucinating. Kirk didn't have a boy. He had trained officers who were running wild around the colony under someone else's orders. She simply couldn't make sense of any of it.

The ambassador started to stand up but a hand latched onto her arm, surprisingly strong for about one second before it limply fell away. She looked over the sick man, pitied him. "There is nothing I can do for you."

"Save... Kirk."

"If it suits me," she told him, for it was clear he was dying and dying men deserved the truth. Then she left him alone, her conscience held in reserve for those who mattered, who had the power to punish her, like Captain Kirk.

* * *

The carnage was extreme, only mitigated by the fact that no one was actually bleeding or dead. Leonard, stuck in a corner of the large town hall, watched Giotto and his security team pick their way across the battlefield, checking bodies, removing weapons. The scene had horrified him when he first came upon it. It still horrified him, despite that his rational self knew there would have been no other choice but to fight in order to escape unscathed.

Leonard was pulled from his thoughts when his left arm started to move on its own. He looked down and saw that Spock was operating a tricorder and he was clutching the Vulcan's blue tunic sleeve—had been, it appeared, holding onto Spock for quite some time. He let go in embarrassment.

Spock paused in what he was doing to ask, "Are you unwell?"

"You must think I'm a coward."

Spock returned to perusing the tricorder's output. "I see no correlation between your reaction and cowardly behavior. It is well-known that violence abhors you."

"But still... you must of thought I was trying to hide behind you while everyone else was fighting back."

"On the contrary, Doctor, I was hiding you."

Leonard opened and closed his mouth. Before he could ask what that meant, Spock walked away.

"Now wait just a minute! Where are you going?"

Leonard hurried after him. When Spock came to an abrupt stop, the doctor almost crashed into him, managing to bounce back a couple of steps at the last second. He complained, "I know damn well you heard me, Commander!"

"Dr. McCoy, if you would try to control yourself, I have something of interest to show you." The Vulcan presented Leonard with his tricorder.

Leonard eyed him warily, then forgave the annoying hobgoblin and took the device. After studying its display for some time, he pursed his mouth. "What am I looking at?"

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine. Moisture content. It's similar to the readings in the barn."

"Precisely."

"Could just be the atmosphere of this planet. Or maybe a storm system came through recently."

"Doctor, I suspect that you did not thoroughly review my official report on Tassos III."

"You put too many details in your reports."

"I am a scientist. Details are my livelihood."

Leonard snorted. "You're a walking thesaurus with an appalling lack of a social life."

"I socialize adequately with my peers," Spock countered in a sharper tone.

 _Not lately_. Leonard didn't say that since the reason behind Spock's recent reclusive behavior was mostly his fault. He sighed and handed the tricorder back to Spock, then took out his own.

As he fine-tuned it, he said, almost conversationally, "You heard Lt. Olivares' report but didn't ask for mine. I would wonder why that is—except I already know the answer. You're afraid I might tell you something you would have to reprimand me for."

"It is your duty to report on your actions and my duty, if necessary, to issue a reprimand."

Leonard glanced at him. "We are both aware of what our roles are, Spock. I am saying that if you feel responsible for me, don't. You agreed to let me come against your better judgment. That's where your responsibility ends. If I make bad decisions or stupid mistakes while I'm here, that's on me."

Spock said nothing.

Leonard gave his attention back to his tricorder. "I didn't try to get away. I was hoping Tom—Mr. Walken, accordingly to Blanca—would lead me to Jim."

"Did it occur to you that he might have killed you once you were no longer useful to him?"

"Well worth the risk, don't you think?"

"No," Spock said, "I do not think so, Doctor, which is why we should not have this discussion until I have the appropriate amount of time to explain to you in detail why you are wrong."

"There you go with those details again." Leonard could tell his joke fell flat, for Spock simply stared at him until he swallowed his chuckle. "Fine," he half-sighed, half-murmured. "Yell at me later if you want. I might even listen."

"Doubtful, which is also why I will invite Jim to the conversation."

Leonard made a face. "Now that's just underhanded, Spock!"

"I intend to leave nothing out of my report to the Captain." Having had his say, apparently, Spock changed the subject by remarking, "I anticipated a negative reaction from the colonists, although not to the extent of a riot."

"Bet you didn't."

"The depth of their malevolence is quite disturbing." Spock hesitated. "How I will phrase this... event in the report, I am not yet certain."

Leonard crossed his arms. "Surely you don't think this level of aggression is _normal?_ " He pointed to a limp body half-hidden under a second body. "That's a child, Spock, who came at you with a pick-axe!"

"Yes, I noted that."

"Then you'll agree it's not far-fetched to say these people aren't in their right minds."

Spock turned to look at him. "Would you say they are psychologically damaged?"

He shook his head. "I wouldn't go that far. It's clear that they're sick, though."

"Can you prove it?"

That question startled Leonard. "What?"

"Find the cause of their violent reaction, Doctor. If the sickness, as you call it, is unnatural and can be treated, then we must help them. If not..." Spock paused.

Leonard prompted, "If it's not?"

"A different recourse must be undertaken."

"I wouldn't recommend trying to arrest them again."

"Duly noted."

Leonard harrumphed, then sighed and missed Jim deeply for a moment.

"Doctor."

"Hm?"

Spock started to say something but was interrupted by Giotto, who handed a communicator to him.

"Commander, Mr. Scott would like a word with you."

Leonard started.

Immediately Spock said into the comm, "Spock here."

" _'Tis wonderful to hear your voice, Mr. Spock!_ "

"Were I human, the feeling would be mutual, Mr. Scott."

Leonard leaned in and said, "That's half-Vulcan-speak for: your voice is the best damn thing we've heard all day!"

" _Thank ye, Dr. McCoy. No word on the Capt'n, I hear._ "

Leonard tried to answer optimistically but his "Not yet" sounded depressed to his own ears.

Spock diverted away from that unhappy news by asking after the communication lines and the ship scanners.

" _Scanners are still useless, sir. Uhura crafted a backdoor we can use to keep a channel open but we cannae say how long it'll hold. If ye could locate the cause of our disruption and disable it, we'll have everything restored in no time at all._ "

"Understood."

Scotty's voice dropped all of a sudden. " _Mr. Spock, we received an official communiqué came from Starfleet. We're to cancel the mission._ "

Leonard met Spock's eyes, then Giotto's. "That shouldn't be possible."

"Was the source validated?" asked Giotto.

" _Aye._ "

"A leak," decided Leonard. "But since when?"

"Very recently," stated Spock. "Perhaps as recent as Ambassador Leta's arrival."

"Why would she bribe one of the crew to contact Command when Command sent her?"

"I do not know, Doctor." Spock turned his head to stare at a junior officer who came towards their group but stopped short as though he wasn't certain about interrupting his superiors.

A chill ran down Leonard's spine. He reached up and tugged at the collar of Spock's tunic. Spock tensed under his hand, but Leonard said, "Hold still," and Spock didn't move away.

Seconds later, he released the Vulcan's collar.

" _Hello? Are you there?_ " called Scotty, as it had gone suddenly silent from their end.

"Mr. Scott," Leonard said, taking the communicator gently out of Spock's hand, "note this in the ship's log: effective immediately no one will transport to or from the surface of Tassos III. I am placing it under medical quarantine."

Giotto stared at him. Spock made an aborted motion towards his own neck.

Leonard couldn't look at either of them.

" _Doctor, are ye...?_ "

"Positive, Scotty. Code 7-10. I'm afraid there's nothing more I can tell you other than it's a contagion. We're in luck, there's a medical bay here but it's woefully understocked. Is there any chance you can get the transporters working?"

" _I'll give it my best._ "

Leonard gave the communicator back to Spock and kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

"Anything else to report, Mr. Scott?"

" _Negative, sir._ "

"We will be touch." Spock closed the unit. He minced no words as he addressed McCoy. "Do I need to be removed from command?"

"I'm not sure," Leonard said. He finally looked up. "Spock..."

"There is nothing to add, Doctor. You made the right choice."

Leonard blanched. Like Olivares, he didn't know whether to agree or disagree with that statement so he said instead, "Let's hope so. Will you come with me to the medical facility? The rash on your neck... I've seen it before."

Spock handed his phaser to Giotto. "The charge is nearly depleted. Use it wisely."

"What about the colonists, sir?"

"This structure has the largest capacity. They must be contained here. Mr. Giotto... if at any point in time I become indisposed, you will be in command of the ground team until the Captain's return."

Giotto nodded once and stepped back.

When Spock gave himself over to Leonard's care, all that Leonard could think to say was "I'm sorry, Spock."

And he truly was sorry. His distraction, his driving need to find Kirk, had blinded him to clues that, if he had been clear-headed, he would have never missed. He knew timing could cost lives. What if the cost was Spock's? How would he ever recover?

How would Jim?

* * *

 **Sad news, my friends: there will be no update next week. I am traveling for a full seven days. I hope this doesn't drive you too crazy!**


	8. Part Eight

With Joran settled on a second biobed in the patient ward, an officer on guard at the outer doors, and Olivares on her way back to Giotto, Leonard thought he should feel easier about things. Only, truth be told, he felt worse. Joran had told them of his brief encounter with Ambassador Leta. While it seemed the woman wasn't as aware of Tappan's plans as they thought she would be, Joran made a point of saying he hoped she never found Kirk. Leonard was inclined to agree with him. The Ambassador was hardly trustworthy. He also believed that the mysterious person who supported her agenda from a seat of power in Command needed to be ousted from the ranks. The whole ordeal smacked of conspiracy.

That, however, was a small problem compared to the medical emergency with which Leonard now had to contend. He waved the prime example of said medical emergency into the ward.

Spock entered cautiously, then came to a halt, raising an eyebrow at the unusual sight of a man sprawled face-down across the facility floor. "I assume this is Mr. Walken."

"Yeah," Leonard agreed distractedly, digging through a counter drawer across the room. "Guess we should've moved him."

The Vulcan casually stepped over the body. "One should not waste one's energy."

Leonard snorted as he pulled out a packaged syringe. "And I thought I had a mean streak. Have a seat, hobgoblin. We're going to be here awhile." When he looked up, though, Spock wasn't sitting down. "What are you doing?"

"A moment, please," requested his companion. "I am attempting to break through the building's security protocol. In the event we are attacked, it would be beneficial to have control of the shield system."

"Hack the quarantine protocols too." _Just in case,_ Leonard added silently.

"Of course, Doctor."

While Spock preoccupied himself with the computer, Leonard perused the available lab equipment in a nearby cabinet. The contents left him disheartened. He rubbed the back of his neck, let loose a sigh, and closed the cabinet door. Then he went to the biobed containing the sleeping Mr. Greene. Leonard noted the patient's color was much improved. Running a tricorder scan over the area of the wound showed an improvement in the statistics too.

The surprise came when he lifted Greene's arm.

Spock stopped what he was doing at Leonard's exclamation. "Dr. McCoy?"

"It's gone," Leonard said in disbelief. He inspected the limb from armpit to wrist. "This can't be right! I'm certain I saw the rash. Surely it couldn't have—wait. _Wait a minute._ " He dropped Greene's arm and stole over to the refrigerator. There, he retrieved one of the cold packets of blood. Then he put it down and picked up a different packet. "These aren't standard-issue. Spock, can you pull up the latest inventory count?"

"I am already doing so."

Leonard came to stand by his shoulder. "There," he said, pointing to one of the computer records. "The blood packs aren't synthetic. Someone uploaded donation tags."

Spock's fingers flew over the controls, causing several menus to whiz by on the computer screen. "I have located the corresponding medical logs."

They went through each log, studying the list of names.

Spock remarked, "The blood donors are local."

"Beyond than the violence, I haven't seen any signs of sickness among the colonists like Greene's. Greene came to Tassos III recently. He could have brought the infection with him but that wouldn't account for his good condition now." He almost hesitated to say his theory but did in the end. "If the infecting agent started here, then the colonists could have developed immunity from prolonged exposure."

"Thereby implying that you unwittingly transferred the antibodies to an infected patient. It is a possibility, Doctor."

Leonard went back to the biobed to inspect the sleeping man's arm again. As he did so, something unpleasant occurred to him.

Spock left the computer to come stand behind him. His words were carefully spoken. "I must admit... how unfortunate it is I am not human."

Leonard hunched his shoulders. What an understatement that was! While he was fairly certain he could isolate the antibodies from the donated blood (if they actually existed) and adapt a serum for humans, he had neither the tools nor the expertise to make it work for a Vulcan, not unless he had some help. And that help was currently far, far out of reach on a giant starship.

He said with a confidence he didn't feel, "Scotty will have the transporter working in no time."

"In the event that he does not, Doctor, and the infection is fatal, you have my permission to perform an autopsy. Perhaps in that capacity I could be useful to you."

Leonard whirled around. "How can you be so—!" He stopped himself, swallowed hard. "Don't be morbid. You're not going to die. I won't let you."

"The proposal is a practical one, given that you have no method of replicating a cure for a Vulcan."

"I said I won't let you die."

"I heard you clearly the first time."

They stared at one another.

"You're cold, Spock," Leonard said at last. "I don't understand you."

"Nor have I always understood you," Spock countered with equal softness.

Leonard squared his shoulders. "But that doesn't mean I'll give you up without a fight."

Spock blinked.

Leonard turned away, his mannerisms in sync with his resolution. "You'd better finish what you're doing on that computer, Mr. Spock. From now on, you're patient zero."

* * *

Jim was dying.

He was vaguely aware of someone propping him up, calling to him, but his body ached and burned in turns. His mind kept confusing reality with fever-dreams. At one point, he opened his eyes, saw Governor Kodos cradling him and screamed. He couldn't get away fast enough. The ground kept slipping and sliding under him. Hands insistently pulled him back. He was in hell.

Then it all changed. He was on the Enterprise, recognized the spartan style as Bones' quarters. The bed sheets smelled of brandy and antiseptic. The pillow was warm. But Jim's arms stayed empty no matter how far he stretched them. He sat up, wanting Bones, only to find himself in the captain's chair on an empty Bridge. No, not empty; not quite. The silhouette of the officer standing in front of the main viewer, his back to Jim, was easily recognizable.

Jim called out to him.

Spock turned his head and said, "Wake up, Jim."

Jim did.

The silo was completely dark and eerily silent. Kirk tried to wet his lips but his mouth was dry. His throat ached as though he had been grieving, and his limbs moved with uncharacteristic stiffness. The skin of his face felt cold rather than hot. Maybe he had come back from death, he thought. Wasn't that what the Governor wanted? For them all to be reborn?

He remembered, then, that he wasn't alone. "...Ram?"

Ram didn't answer.

Jim forced himself to sit up. "Ramses?"

No deeper shadows, no rustling movements. Jim saw nothing and heard no one except himself breathing.

The boy was gone.

* * *

"I told you to stay with McCoy."

Blanca was a tough woman and had never backed down from a challenge in her life. She countered, "I'm fit for duty, sir."

Giotto appeared to think it wasn't worth the effort to argue with her because, after a long minute of staring at her without blinking, he said, "You may relieve Danson, Lieutenant. Send him here."

She saluted her commanding officer and marched off to find Danson.

Danson was in the middle of a debate with Sandeep about something or other that had them talking in hushed voices.

Blanca interrupted them. "Danson, the boss wants you."

"Fine," replied the other officer, shifting his phaser to his opposite hand, "but now you have to take up my cause as well as my station, Olivares."

She watched him leave with her eyebrows raised. "What cause?" she asked her new partner.

"Danson doesn't get it," he said. "I tried explaining it to him a thousand times but he just can't see it."

"I need more specifics than that, Sandeep."

All of a sudden Sandeep looked uncomfortable. "It's, er, about _them_."

The woman resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

After a surreptitious glance at the neighboring officers on also on guard duty, Sandeep leaned her way and whispered, "I'm talking about Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy."

"What about them?"

"They're—" The man made a weird gesture his hands. "—involved."

Blanca grabbed a fistful of the idiot's hair and jerked his head back so she could scowl in his face. "Are you spreading rumors about your superiors, Lt. Balasubramaniam?"

Sandeep's eyes grew large. In the same breath, he exclaimed, "You can pronounce my name!" and "No, of course not!"

She eyed him warily, then let him go. "So what the hell did you mean?"

"They're involved l-like an u-unit! A team!"

As Blanca considered that, her temper subsided. "Of course they're a team. They're Senior Command."

"It's more than that." Sandeep cringed back like he expected her to jump at him again and explained in a rush, "I'm just saying they are important to each other on a... a personal level. Not like personal-personal but like... personal."

If this was the way Sandeep always conversed, it was little wonder Danson had been utterly unconvinced. "Listen up. If you're saying our Captain is friends with his First Officer and CMO, anybody with two eyes and one brain cell can see that. If you're saying they might have a little more interest in each other than is _friendly_ , then that's obvious too."

Sandeep's eyes bugged out.

Blanca cocked a hip. "But you can't go around flapping your lips about it, Sandeep. Private business isn't our business—even when McCoy is running around like a chicken with its head cut off, Mr. Spock is little better, and the Captain is heedless of the way he affects them. Our job is to keep them alive so that they can function together when the time comes."

"Why?"

"Because we won't accomplish nearly as much as we can without them."

"That makes them sound like gods."

She snorted. "If you want gods, you won't find them on a starship—not the Enterprise, at least."

He nodded and added a bit sheepishly, "I wasn't trying to offend anyone. I'm just..."

"Amazed," she finished for him. "Sometimes I am too." _Mainly,_ the woman kept to herself, _that my seniors are such knuckleheads they can't figure out what's standing right in front of them._

Sandeep gave her a wide grin.

Blanca almost grinned back. Instead she crossed her arms in a business-like manner, lifted her chin, and said, "On that note, do you want to help me find Captain Kirk?"

* * *

The organism under the microscope's lens twitched.

" _What in heck is this?_ " Leonard muttered to himself as he magnified the view.

It had been difficult to isolate the virus. The skin cells of Spock's rash were inconclusive, and his Vulcan blood was full of peculiar anomalies, of which only about half made sense to Leonard at any given time, let alone when possibly infected. Now that he thought he finally had a glimpse of what the agent looked like, he was wondering if his eyesight was bad.

That, or he had come upon something which was like no other known disease.

"I need a live specimen," he said, leaning back from the microscope.

From across the laboratory counter, Spock lifted his eyebrow. "I consider myself alive, Doctor."

Leonard flapped a dismissive hand. "That ice water you call blood is about as useful as one of Scotty's engineering manuals."

Spock looked at him in such a way that Leonard thought he might be amused.

"What?" he challenged.

"You are not an engineer."

"I'm not a certified Vulcan specialist either!"

"Obviously."

Leonard grumbled for some seconds. "You're awfully cheerful for a sick person."

"Other than the rash, I can detect nothing abnormal in my biological processes."

"Which is why I need someone who is feeling abnormal, Spock. Someone in a... later stage. And preferably human, so I have a better chance of figuring out what we're dealing with."

"Then I apologize that I cannot be of more use to you."

Leonard almost reached out to pat Spock's arm. He blinked. Where had that urge come from?

The doctor sidled a little farther down the counter and retrieved his tricorder. "I should go back to the hall. Take more readings of the locals. They're connected to this somehow. They could have the answer."

"No."

Leonard glanced up, frowned. "Why not?"

"The risk is too great."

His frown deepened. "We have the situation under control."

Spock left his stool, came towards McCoy. "You would be foolish to believe that. What caused the colonists to attack us may indeed come from a contagion but the person who cultivated their wrath, who has in fact perpetrated this dangerous series of events, remains at large. I have no doubt that he means us harm, Dr. McCoy. Captain Kirk is his primary target but, undoubtedly, we have also become persons of interest—which makes us liabilities to Jim."

"You can't confine me to this facility, Mr. Spock," Leonard argued. "In a medical crisis, my authority supersedes yours."

"You are not listening to my concerns."

"I heard them well enough!" Leonard put down the tricorder. "But I'm telling you no more _hiding me_ , Spock. And yes I know what that means!"

Spock asked neutrally, "Do you?"

"You don't think I can handle myself!" The doctor flushed with anger. "Admit it. You've always thought of me as a liability. It's not just this mission, not just because I love Jim. Hell, you've pretty much said the reason you don't approve of our relationship is because you think I'm no good for him!"

Spock stepped closer until the only object separating them was the counter. "You should not make inferences when you do not have the appropriate information."

Leonard leaned across the counter. "I have to infer, Spock, because you refuse to tell me what you're feeling!"

"Would you truly understand me if I explained?" Spock wanted to know. "Would you accept what I have to say despite your numerous claims that I am not capable of emotion?"

"Of course you're capable, you damn Vulcan! You're the one who chooses to ignore the fact that you do feel!"

"Not this time," came the Vulcan's rumbling reply as he reached for Leonard.

" _How touching._ "

Spock's hand froze near the doctor's face. Leonard, already frozen by the unmistakable intention in Spock's eyes, unfroze. He swallowed and managed to look towards the newcomer.

Augustus Tappan stood in the entryway to the lab with a smile that wasn't at all pleasant.

"I apologize for interrupting," he said, "but your lovers' spat will have to wait. I need your assistance."

Leonard's gaze dropped to the phaser in Tappan's hand. _Damn._ "I don't think assistance is the right word."

Tappan lifted the weapon slightly. "Hands where I can see them, please. Mr. Spock," he said in warning when the Vulcan lowered his hands instead.

Leonard raised his hands. He nodded slightly to Spock, who slowly raised his hands as well.

Tappan came forward.

Dread formed in the pit of Leonard's stomach. "What did you do to the guard?" he asked.

"I killed him."

Leonard's hands dropped out of shock but when Tappan aimed the phaser directly at him, Leonard quickly returned to his former position.

"You bastard," he said, voice roughened by grief.

"Dr. McCoy, is that really something you should say to the man who holds your life in his hands?"

"I don't care for threats. If you're going to shoot me, do it already."

"Mr. Tappan will not injure either of us," Spock stated, sounding much too calm. "He said he requires our assistance."

"Very astute of you, Mr. Spock," praised Tappan. "Unfortunately, I need McCoy more than I need you."

Leonard nearly jumped forward. "Don't hurt him!" The damn counter kept him from shielding Spock, but he could and would beg for the Vulcan's life if he had to.

Tappan looked at him. "Wake up Thomas."

"I can't. I have nothing to counteract the sedative with."

"I did my research on you, Dr. McCoy. You're very intelligent, very creative when it comes to creating medical miracles. Find a way." He pointed the phaser at Spock. "Or he will die."

It was Spock who supplied the solution. "Dr. McCoy tells the truth. It is not possible for him to rouse Mr. Walken." He paused. "I, however, can."

Tappan considered Spock in silence for awhile. "How?" he asked.

"Through a technique known only to Vulcans. I will stimulate his consciousness."

"Spock," Leonard said, alarmed, "the risk—"

"Is minimal to myself," finished Spock. "I am very capable in this regard, Doctor."

"Well I don't like it."

"I do." Tappan nodded to Spock. "You may proceed, Commander, but I give you fair warning: if you betray me, the first person to suffer will be Dr. McCoy."

"Understood."

Tappan made Spock and McCoy walk side by side to the patient ward. Walken had been rolled over onto his back. Spock knelt to the floor and arranged his hands at the man's temples. Leonard noted it didn't look like Spock was preparing to enter the typical mind meld, but he didn't say anything. He just watched.

"My mind to your mind... my thoughts to your thoughts..."

Tappan stood with his lips parted, gaze transfixed, clearly fascinated by the show.

Spock fell silent and stayed silent for several minutes. Leonard began to shift in agitation. He knew Spock was up to something that Tappan wouldn't like.

Finally, Spock withdrew his hands and said, "Mr. Walken, welcome back."

Tom Walken opened his eyes. Then he sat straight up, blinked, and grinned. Or rather, his lips pulled back from his teeth.

On instinct Leonard backed up a few steps as the man climbed to his feet.

Tappan hurried forward. "Thomas!"

Tom said in monotone, "Hello, Governor," and held out a hand as if asking for something.

Tappan drew a second phaser from his jumpsuit and gave it to Walken.

Tom grinned without emotion again and, without ceremony, stunned Tappan.

Leonard leaped out of the way as Tappan keeled over. Spock calmly took the phaser from Walken's hand.

"My god," said the doctor, unable to look away from Walken, who lowered his hand and stood like a mannequin, staring vacantly ahead of him. "Are you controlling him?"

Spock retrieved Tappan's phaser as well. "In a manner of speaking, Doctor. His consciousness is still dormant. I issued a set of instructions for his body to follow, the objective being to disarm and disable Tappan."

Leonard turned to stare at Spock instead of Tom. "Disable?"

Spock didn't elaborate.

Leonard bit his tongue, deciding the less he knew about the particulars, the better. He nudged Tappan with his foot. "Let's deal with this idiot first. We don't have a brig, but we can certainly tie him to a chair." His eyes narrowed. "I have plenty of questions to ask him."

"He will likely refuse to share Jim's location."

Leonard's gaze narrowed further. "Who says I'm going to give him a choice?"

Spock didn't reply to that. He bent down, picked up the unconscious man, and settled him over his shoulder, then looked at Leonard expectantly.

Leonard led the way back to the lab. He only paused once to glance over his shoulder at the frozen form of Walken, still staring ahead.

Spock, the doctor decided, could be exceptionally scary at times. How funny that Leonard should like him all the more for it.

* * *

It had been luck to catch Tappan sneaking towards the barn then to the grainhouse. Karen had been even luckier to escape his notice when he had stormed out of a tall silo unexpectedly and alone.

She hadn't been certain what to call it when she discovered her son inside. Now they were both on the move, silently slipping between the warehouses, circling farther and farther away from the guarded domes in the waning daylight.

She was having a difficult time putting together a plan.

"We need to go back."

"No."

"I could have carried him. I can still do it!"

Karen spun around and told her son bluntly, "I said no, Ramses."

Ram bared his teeth at her, looking momentarily wild-eyed. "I can't believe you would do this. You're no better than Dad!"

Her patience was nearing its end. Thought she hadn't had to drag him forcefully away from the silo, Ram was still intent on making her feel regret. With every step that took them farther from Kirk, his words grew more heated, his voice louder. She didn't understand why he was so adamant about a man he didn't know. She tried explaining again, "Kirk wasn't in his right mind. He attacked you!"

"He was trying to get away from me! The Captain's sick, I told you that!"

"We'll send someone to fetch him."

Ram grabbed her forearm and demanded, "Why should I believe you? Either of you? Dad locked me in that silo, and you're working with him."

Her expression darkened. "Your father will answer for what he did to you, Ramses. I promise that."

Ram laughed, the sound bitter. "Stop lying. You won't touch Dad and we both know it."

She gritted her teeth. "That's not true."

"You're weak!" Ram spat back. "He'll give you some lame excuse and you'll forgive him! You always do!"

"Is it a crime to love your father?" she shouted.

"Yes!" Ram answered.

Karen tried to shake off his hand. His grip only tightened.

"Yes, it is a crime," her son repeated, "because he doesn't love you back!"

Karen flinched. A physical blow would have hurt less. She tried to reason with him. "We've never told you our history. You can't understand what is between your father and I—"

Ram cut her off. "A man who loves you doesn't ask you to trade your career for a prison cell. A man who should love his child doesn't throw that child away. A man who has a shred of conscience doesn't poison the livelihood of a thousand people!"

"What are you talking about?" she questioned sharply.

"Mom, for once, _shut up_. You're more of a fool than I thought." Ram stepped right up to her. He had gained more of the physique of a man than a boy since the last time she visited Tassos III and now almost towered over her.

For the first time, she felt a beat of fear when she looked at him.

"I don't know why I care about you," he said coldly. "I don't think I will care anymore."

She tried to cup his face. He knocked her hand aside. His grip on her arm began to bruise her.

"Ram... Ramses, what's wrong with you? You're hurting me."

Ram smiled in a way that turned Karen cold. The eyes staring at her were no longer familiar. Something was very, very wrong. Even before his fingers encircled her throat, she realized with frightening clarity that the person she had saved from the silo was not her son.

* * *

With nearly every man, woman, and child contained inside of the central dome, the colony looked deserted: tools left astray, a windmill creaking in the distance, the occasional hum of a power generator. Sandeep slapped a small penlight against his hand as it flickered on and off. They didn't have much sunlight left.

Out of a need to break the silence more than curiosity, he wanted to know, "Why did the boss agree to let us look for Kirk by ourselves?"

"He owes me."

Sandeep wished he knew the story behind that statement. The thought that the Enterprise's Chief of Security owed anyone any favors really shocked him. He knew at some point Kirk had fended off an unwanted career advancement for the man, but other than that most people—even Giotto's direct reports—tended to stick strictly to business when confronted with Giotto's gruff personality.

A possibility occurred to him. "Did you save his life once?" Sandeep guessed.

The officer at his side laughed. "Giotto never needs saving," was her reply. She added tartly, "And that's all I can say on the matter."

Sandeep was disappointed, almost so much so that in his distraction he nearly ran into Olivares when she stopped walking.

"Did you hear that?" she asked.

Sandeep paused to listen. Eventually he recognized a faint sound to the west of them. Someone was weeping.

Blanca jogged in that direction, Sandeep close behind. The scene they came upon drew them up short.

Ambassador Leta, her face blotchy and a bloody farming tool in hand, looked up at them from the ground. She pleaded, "Help him! Please, please, help him!"

Blanca knelt silently by the body and put a hand to his neck. "He's alive," she said.

"I didn't mean it—oh god, I didn't mean it!" The woman shook with her distress. "He wouldn't stop! He was going to kill me! Oh god, Ram... Ramses..."

Sandeep caught Olivares' gaze. She mouthed, "Her son."

Oh shit. Ambassador Leta had attacked her own son? Why?

Blanca asked her, "Are you hurt?"

The woman shook her head, shivered violently, and began to cry again. She was in shock, Sandeep realized.

Sandeep circled to Blanca's side. "What should we do?"

"He needs medical attention."

Sandeep glanced at the Ambassador but she didn't appear to be cognizant anything except her horror. "What if he... is like the others?"

Blanca stood up. "We will have to take that chance, Sandeep. We can't leave him here to die."

Leta's head jerked up. "Don't let him die!" she begged. "Help him, please! I—I will do anything you want!"

Olivares tensed. "Do you know where Captain Kirk is?"

"In the silo!" The woman flung her arm wide, which wasn't helpful, but her confession gave them the information they needed. "The grain silo past the barn!"

Sandeep's heart pounded. They finally knew where Kirk was! "Should I—"

"Help me lift him," Blanca ordered, reaching for one of the young man's limp arms.

"But what about the Captain?"

She flipped her communicator open with the other hand. "Olivares to Giotto."

" _Giotto here._ "

"Kirk is in the one of the silos beyond the barn."

" _Are you en route?_ "

"Negative. Lt. Balasubramaniam and I are headed to the medical facility. The Ambassador is in our custody."

" _Good work, Lieutenants. Proceed._ "

She closed the communicator, and Sandeep helped her haul Leta's son upright. Leta dropped the tool and clumsily came to her feet.

He wondered how Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy were going to react to the news of Kirk's recovery, but then he realized he would likely found out before anyone.

He just didn't know why he had an uneasy feeling about it all.

* * *

Tappan woke up and started laughing. Leonard had known they had a madman on their hands, but now he had to wonder just how mentally unhinged Tappan was compared to the other colonists. While their previous attackers had been wildly violent, Tappan's show of lucidity was the exact opposite of chaotic. There was cleverness in the eyes hidden behind his pair of glasses; there was self-control in the way he relaxed into the chair, and premeditation in his words and actions.

"This is not what I expected," the man said after testing the straps McCoy had used to bind him. "I have been well and truly caught. You have my admiration."

Spock moved to stand directly in front of Tappan. He locked his hands behind his back. "Where is Captain Kirk?"

"Kirk is probably dead by now. I wouldn't bother."

A muscle twitched in Spock's cheek. Leonard forced himself to stay quiet. He had agreed to let Spock lead the interrogation since Spock had made the valid point Leonard might not be able to keep a cool head.

"I am perfectly capable of taking the information from you," Spock said.

Well, so much for Spock being the more controlled of the two of them.

"You wouldn't waste time talking to me if you intended to rape my mind, Mr. Spock."

Spock didn't flinch but Leonard did.

Tappan's look turned shrewd. "Was that what you did to Thomas? What would your people say about you abusing the free will of another living creature?"

"That's enough!" Leonard barked, stepping towards the man in the chair. "If you want to talk about foul deeds, let's discuss _yours_ , which includes _murder!_ "

"Doctor."

Leonard pursed his mouth in dismay but swallowed his next comment.

"Mr. Tappan, you are correct in a sense. You will not be tortured. However, given your present circumstances, you are logical enough to know it is in your best interest to cooperate."

"I am infinitely logical, Commander Spock."

"That statement I am afraid I cannot agree with."

"He's going to talk us in circles," the doctor growled. "Just let me give him a truth serum."

Spock raised both eyebrows. "Do you have that available?"

 _No,_ thought Leonard. Tappan didn't know that, though. He patted the medkit at his side. "I always carry some."

Spock's eyebrows went up another inch.

Tappan laughed as Leonard snapped open his medkit.

"I wouldn't piss me off if I were you!" Leonard threatened. "I can whip up a cocktail that'll make the Rigellan pox seem like a walk in the park!"

The man kept on laughing.

Nonplussed, Leonard looked from Spock to Tappan and back again. "Spock, I think he's finally lost his mind."

"Like the others, it seems."

"Oh, I'm not mad," the leader of Tassos III insisted. "I am entertained by your situation."

"There's nothing funny about this situation! People are dying!"

"I wonder," he went on to muse, "if you say that because of your Vulcan or because of yourself?"

For some reason, Spock stiffened.

Leonard didn't understand his meaning. "What?"

Tappan smiled. "It's obvious to me. You're infected, Dr. McCoy. Time is running out... for all of you."

Leonard just stared at him. It was Spock who reached for Leonard, who gently drew down the doctor's collar of his blue tunic to reveal a familiar discoloration across his collarbone. Leonard didn't have to see the rash to know it was there. The spot suddenly itched with a fierceness.

 _Damn_ , he thought. He had hoped he had more time. In that, Tappan was right.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Spock? Have you lost hope now that you will lose your doctor as well as your captain?" Tappan taunted.

Leonard's mouth thinned into a grim line. He had had enough. "Spock, I don't say this often, but I want you to shut this man up."

Spock looked at Tappan queerly. "It would be my pleasure, Leonard."

Tappan lost his smile.

Leonard would have stayed to watch the nerve-pinch but just then Spock's communicator beeped from beside the computer terminal, and he went to fetch it.


	9. Part Nine

Olivares and Sandeep ran into Dr. McCoy in the reception area. He was pale, distracted, muttering to himself just beyond the doors that led outside. As they came through the doorway, Blanca saw that he was arguing with himself on what he should do. It didn't take a stretch of the imagination to determine what had him so conflicted. She was surprised that he wasn't already en route to Kirk.

That was a good thing for their little party, of course, considering that she and Sandeep had a dying man between them.

"Doctor!" her partner called to grab his attention. "Dr. McCoy!"

He turned around and said sharply, "Is this the emergency?"

"Aye, sir," Blanca replied.

McCoy pulled the man's arm off her shoulders and placed it over his own. He and Sandeep half-steered, half-dragged the fellow down a long corridor.

She explained as she followed them, "We found him unconscious. He's roused a little since then but hasn't been very coherent." She hesitated before she said, "He has head trauma."

"I can see that," McCoy remarked in a grim tone. "Head for that biobed on the right, Lieutenant." As the two men eased the patient onto the empty bed, the doctor told them, "I'll take a look at him here but we'll likely have to move him to the OR. Can one of you stay to assist me?"

A movement in the ward caught Olivares' eye. Mr. Spock was watching them from a distance.

"I could do it," Sandeep said in reply to McCoy's request. "My mother had a small medical practice at home. Sometimes I helped her."

McCoy nodded, already leaning over the patient and lifting one eyelid at a time, a tricorder whirring softly in his other hand.

"He's had several good cracks over the head. Do you know what was used to bludgeon him?"

"A farming tool, but I couldn't tell you what kind." Blanca turned, then, and discovered that the Ambassador hadn't followed them inside the patient ward. "Excuse me."

Blanca found her in the corridor.

"How is he?" the woman asked anxiously.

"The doctor's with him now." Blanca crossed her arms over her chest and stared hard at Leta. "Why did you attack him?"

"I told you, he was trying to hurt me."

"Did you provoke him?"

The woman straightened slightly. "We were arguing—not that that is any of your business."

"It's my duty to investigate what I don't understand."

"It's your duty to report," the Ambassador corrected in a colder tone, "and let your superiors make the decision to investigate."

Blanca smiled thinly. "Fair enough." The woman seemed startled when she left.

Mr. Spock hadn't moved from his corner in Olivares' absence.

"Sir, Ambassador Leta is in the hallway."

After a few seconds more of watching McCoy, the Vulcan gave her his attention . "How was she involved?"

"She's responsible for the incident, but I was told I don't have the authority to hear the details."

Wordlessly, Mr. Spock crossed the ward. He paused only when McCoy looked up and called to him.

"Didn't I tell you to stay put?" the doctor said in a surprisingly un-heated tone. "Where're you going?"

"To question your patient's assailant."

McCoy quieted, gave a brief nod, and returned to his patient.

Leta was waiting for them, her stance tense, her face clear of grief. Her expression grew even more composed when she spotted Spock. "Commander," she said.

"Ambassador. I assume I have the proper level of authority to speak with you."

Leta shot Blanca a black look before she focused again on the Vulcan. "What is it you want to know, Commander Spock?"

The Vulcan clasped his hands behind his back. "What is your relationship to the victim?"

It was a very intuitive question, thought Blanca, especially since she hadn't said anything about the man's identity to anyone other than Sandeep.

Leta answered readily enough. "He's my son, Ramses."

"Would you classify your actions as defensive?"

"Absolutely."

"Explain."

"My son and I were engaged in a disagreement. He grew violent. Then he—" The woman faltered momentarily. "—attempted to strangle me. I couldn't reason with him. I had to act in my defense."

"Given his current condition, it appears that defense may have been excessive."

Leta's mask cracked. "Do you think I wanted to hurt my child? I tried to run. He came after me! I had to fight back!"

Blanca almost felt sorry for Leta. "Is it out of character for him to act so aggressively?"

Leta turned partly away from them and folded her arms, rubbing them as if she was cold. "I want to say yes but Ramses has always been... unpredictable. Why? That's what I want to know. Why would he do this to me?"

Blanca's pity fled. This woman was too selfish to be a mother. She turned to Mr. Spock. "I think this case is no different than what happened with the others."

"Based on what evidence?" the Vulcan wanted to know.

"My impression of Leta's son. He was a bit of a smartass but he had a conscience. He wanted to help us despite it siding him against his father. And when it came down to fight or flight, his instinct told him to run. He didn't choose to attack anyone."

"I see. Let us hope you are correct, Lieutenant."

Blanca wondered why Mr. Spock would say that but didn't ask him.

Leta said, "I want to see my son."

Spock started to speak but a voice came from behind them.

"That isn't a good idea."

Leta moved towards Dr. McCoy, asking, "Why?" and sounding afraid of the answer.

"I think Blanca's right about your son's condition." McCoy wore a medical scrub over his uniform, tied around the waist. "He's stabilized for the moment. I can heal his wounds but there's a fluctuation to his neural patterns that I don't like. I came to ask permission to use a cortical monitor."

"Doctor," Spock said, his response somewhat bemused, "permission is a given."

McCoy looked at Leta, his expression solemn. "From you maybe, but I need it from her. What's it going to be, Ambassador? Should I help your son?"

Leta said nothing for a moment. Then, "Are you threatening me?"

"Hardly," replied the doctor. "I'm just telling you there's more wrong with him than the damage you caused. I want to help him but I have a feeling if I do, I'll find out what you've been trying to hide all along. Are you going to let me do that? Is your son worth that price?"

"You're mistaken," the woman said sharply. "I have nothing to hide."

Dr. McCoy nodded. "Then that's settled. Spock," he started to say, then stopped, shaking his head. He turned away.

"Doctor," the Vulcan called.

McCoy paused on the threshold to the ward.

"Do what you can."

"Let me know when the Captain arrives."

"Affirmative."

McCoy left their group standing in the corridor.

Olivares perused Mr. Spock's expression but per usual wasn't able to tell what he was thinking or feeling. Had she heard a note of longing in the Vulcan's tone or had it been her imagination? The regret she understood but not longing. What if Spock and McCoy hadn't reconciled their differences? Would having Kirk back finally bring them together or push them farther apart?

She wished she knew.

* * *

James Kirk wasn't a man who gave up easily but, lying in the dark, nauseous and once again fever-blind, he was only human. He thought about his demise, came close to wishing for it. As he shivered and sweated in turns, tears began to leak out of the corners of his eyes. He remembered his mother, his strong mother, crying when she saw his ravaged body for the first time after Tarsus IV. His father just held his hand through every examination and accompanied him to the mandated therapy sessions. Jim had hated those. Every time he was forced to say something about his experience, he had an all-too-vivid recollection of the horror he had lived through. He remembered the sounds—sometimes screaming and fighting, sometimes frightening silence—and the prevalent smell of rot and death.

 _It smelled like this place_ , his brain insisted. _How did you find Tarsus again, Jim?_

"I didn't," he whispered back. "I didn't. It's over."

 _You know it will never be over._

That was true. For over twenty years, that event had always come back to him when he was his most vulnerable.

Not since Bones, though. It had been a relief to realize that. He didn't have to worry about waking up in a cold sweat. He didn't have to suffer insomnia because, after watching his men die on a mission, of nightmares of Kodos the Executioner that made him afraid to sleep. Bones had a calming presence. It wasn't simply because Jim had another warm body next to him. Some of his past lovers had complained of how fitfully he slept. With Leonard, he was spared both the bad dreams and the awkward inability to explain them.

For the briefest moment he wished the man was with him. He even imagined it: Leonard leaning over him, the light cresting his shoulders to illuminate his finer features, that wide smile and those twinkling blue eyes. He was saying to Jim in his teasing way, "Captain... Captain Kirk."

Except the dream-Leonard kept saying it over and over until the light grew too bright and washed away the image of McCoy entirely.

"Kirk!" a different voice shouted, then another one. "Captain!"

Jim shielded his eyes against the light—the overhead light above the hatch that cloaked the figures standing on the platform. The ladder had been rolled down, and someone was descending into the silo.

His brain began to make sense of the situation. No one would come to pull him out of this hell unless it was his own men. Feebly, he rolled over onto his stomach and tried to lift himself up. Telling them to stop was out of the question; his throat was swollen. He couldn't shout. He had to get up and be across the silo before the man on the ladder came in contact with the wet, rotting wheat.

Sitting up was painstaking; climbing to his feet, more so. He must have looked like a drunken sailor, weaving across the small mountains of grain, nearly tumbling down one. He was only halfway to the ladder by the time the man in the red shirt jumped down.

Then the man turned, and Jim saw it was Giotto.

Giotto started toward him but obediently came to a halt when Jim flung out his hand and ordered, albeit in a harsh whisper, " _Stop_."

"Captain?"

"Stop," Jim whispered again, and clumsily crossed the remaining distance between them. His legs were shaking by the end, but he stubbornly locked his kneecaps.

Giotto took him by the shoulders, his solemn face pinched as he questioned again, "Captain?"

Jim let out a croak that was meant to be more of a chuckle. He laid a trembling hand on his Chief of Security's shoulder and said, "John, good to see you. Let's get out of here."

"Think you can climb?" Giotto asked him.

Jim knew Giotto wouldn't judge him harshly for saying no. Still, it didn't come naturally to him to give in to weakness, particularly in front of others. He nodded.

The first few rungs wavered in his vision but he resolutely closed his eyes and reached for the next one, then the next. By this method, he climbed the ladder, though the climb seemed endless. At some point, when his arms grew too weak and one of his hands slipped, Giotto looped an arm about his waist and without comment lent him the strength needed to reach the top.

Several pairs of hands lifted him from the topmost rung to the platform itself. The circle of crewmen looked so happy to see him that he gave them a small smile.

"C'mon, Captain," Giotto said. "We need to get you to Dr. McCoy."

"McCoy?" Jim echoed as they moved through the hatch.

"Of course. And Mr. Spock. You've had a lot of people looking for you, sir."

Something shivered through Jim. "How many on the planet?"

"Nine in the search party."

Jim had to pause on the steel staircase when he felt the waning sunlight on his skin. The world below the silo made a slow turn. "My team," he recalled. "They were taken by Tappan's men."

"We've recovered Olivares, Kolarski, and Joran." Giotto seemed to think on something for a moment before he added, "The Ambassador as well."

Jim grimaced and slowly resumed his trek down the stairs. "What about Tappan?"

"In custody of Spock and McCoy. Captain... There's more you should know, but it may be better for you to hear it from the Commander."

Giotto had misgivings about telling him something? That made Jim nervous. He stumbled a little when he took his first step on the ground.

Giotto caught his elbow.

"Thank you, Mr. Giotto. I'm... not at my best right now."

"That much is apparent." Giotto moved in closer, blocked the view of the other officers—or rather kept them from seeing Jim in an attempt to give him privacy. "Captain, I need to ask a question before we go any farther."

"In case I become incapacitated later on," Jim acknowledged, ignoring the way his body temperature seemed to have increased another two or three degrees and his speech slowed. "Understood, Lieutenant-Commander. Continue."

"Why you, sir?"

Jim closed his eyes. "I have the power of a starship in my hands. And with it, the ability to destroy an entire colony."

Giotto stiffened. "He wants to destroy Tassos III?"

"So he says," murmured Jim. He opened his eyes and swallowed against the fire in his throat. "Which will never happen, do you understand?"

"Of course it won't." Giotto looked consternated by the thought nonetheless. "Tappan is a fool."

"A madman," Kirk amended, which in his opinion was far worse than a fool.

Giotto let go of him.

It turned out that was a bad idea. When Jim took his next step forward, his left knee buckled. Hands lifted him up. Giotto put one of Jim's arms over his shoulders. Another officer took Jim's other arm.

Jim dropped his head forward, grateful not to have to bear most of his own weight for the duration of the journey.

"We've got you, Captain."

He knew that. He did. His crew always had his back, just as he tried to protect theirs.

This time he gladly let them lead the way to freedom.

* * *

When Kirk came through the facility doors, even in an unconscious slump, nearly everyone stopped what they were doing. Sandeep dropped a roll of bandages. Olivares jumped up from Joran's bedside. Spock froze, and Leta gave a soft gasp.

Leonard McCoy realized belatedly why the Ambassador was no longer paying attention to his recommendations for her son's care.

When he turned around, he had no reaction at all. He merely said, "Through the door on the right."

Giotto gave a slight nod and hauled McCoy's new patient into the private examination room.

Leonard snapped his fingers in front of Leta's face. "Have you heard a word I said?"

"Dr. McCoy, that was your missing captain. Why aren't you running after him?"

"He made it this far. He'll keep another minute. And, Ambassador," the doctor leaned in and dropped his voice, "you have no right to talk to me about Kirk. In fact, I strongly suggest you start practicing your apology to him." He straightened up. "Once I have a better idea of your son's prognosis, I'll let you know."

He turned on his heel and said to Spock who stood in the doorway to the exam room, "Keep that woman away from my patients."

Leonard took a moment before he approached the biobed to take in Kirk's appearance from head to toe. He said to Giotto and the other officer, "I know you came as quickly as you could. Thank you both."

They accepted his words as the dismissal he meant them to be.

Leonard engaged the monitor above the biobed. He adjusted his tricorder to start a new multivariate analysis. He ran his hand along the coverlet beneath Kirk.

Finally he touched Jim.

"Where've you been, Jim-boy?" he said in a thick voice. "Don't you know how worried I've been?"

He bowed his head momentarily because Jim couldn't answer him. Then he got to work.

* * *

An hour passed quickly.

"Would you stop hovering, you oversized mother hen?"

"How is he?"

Leonard pressed his mouth flat. "No different than the last time you asked, Spock."

"His complexion is unsettling," Spock said.

The doctor bit back a retort about green-blooded complexions. "He's running a fever, and he's dehydrated." When Spock looked like he would say more, Leonard quickly held up the hypospray in his hand. "Do _you_ want this shot instead?"

Spock closed his mouth.

"Sandeep!" Leonard snapped to the red-shirted man standing farther away, by a rolling tray. "Mr. Spock needs his temperature taken. Can you handle that?"

Sandeep turned wide eyes to him. "I think so?"

"Don't forget to record it on his chart." Leonard turned back to Kirk, hoping he had at least earned a five-minute reprieve. Sandeep was painstakingly slow at figuring out the medical instruments, but luckily Spock was also too polite to offer to do the job for him.

He sighed once he was alone. "This is not what I meant when I said it would be useful to observe someone in a later stage. Damn it, Jim. What did they do? Dump you in a vat of bacteria?"

His tricorder readings said yes. Kirk's clothes and skin were coated in a species of bacteria similar to the strain in the barn, only more toxic. At the moment, Jim's most dangerous symptoms were his high blood pressure, fever, and the swollen airways. Leonard could treat those with what he had on hand, but he wondered if he could concoct the right medicine to handle their underlying cause.

Jim groaned and shifted restlessly on the small bed.

Leonard ran a cloth over the man's brow, wiping away the sweat there. "It's okay," he soothed. "You'll be okay."

Kirk settled.

Sandeep returned without Spock seven minutes later, holding up a PADD and looking proud. "Job accomplished, Dr. McCoy."

"Good. Hope you scared him off for me too. Now help me get Kirk out of these clothes."

Sandeep flushed. "Uh..."

Leonard fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Boy, he doesn't have anything you or I don't see every day in a mirror."

"But..." Sandeep leaned forward to whisper, "I am not very comfortable with the idea of undressing my captain."

Leonard lost his patience. "Didn't you say you worked in a sick room?"

"Mostly paperwork and errands," the man admitted sheepishly.

Leonard muttered an oath under his breath and, having no choice, hollered, "Spock!"

Spock appeared at his elbow, as if he had been loitering close by. "Doctor, how is the Captain?"

"Lieutenant, be thankful you never applied to Starfleet Medical. I would have you assigned to sponge-bath duty for the foreseeable future. Now go annoy somebody else. Spock, put on these gloves and take his shirt. I'll take his pants." He eyed the Vulcan after Sandeep left. " _You_ don't have a problem with the naked body, do you?"

"Recall the incident on Verdes IX, Doctor. One unclothed human body is hardly comparable to the shock of one hundred. I believe the word embarrassment is no longer part of my vocabulary."

Leonard's face grew hot. "You said you would never bring that up."

Spock cocked his head. "I said I would not mention it in front of company."

"Lord, I should've known you'd make that distinction." He donned another pair of gloves and removed Jim's boots. "Enough with the blackmail. Be careful not to let your skin touch the cloth."

"How should I dispose of the shirt?"

"Use the container on that counter. I still need it for the lab."

They worked in silence until they covered Jim with a sheet. Spock offered to locate clothing they could dress him in. Leonard waved the Vulcan away. Then he studied the filthy garments. Blood spotted the collar of Jim's torn gold tunic. He closed the container lid quickly, hiding it from sight. The clothes were unsalvageable and would have to be disintegrated after the lab analysis.

Once again alone with Jim, Leonard took the opportunity to lay his gloved hand against the man's cheek.

"Jim," he said softly, "fight for me."

Kirk gave no indication that his lover's plea had been heard.

* * *

Karen eavesdropped on the conversation of two of Kirk's security officers in the corridor and afterwards asked her guard, "Why did no one inform me that Augustus is here?"

The woman ignored her.

Leta paced the corner of the waiting room where she had been told to stay until either Spock or McCoy returned for her. She had been able to see Ramses after McCoy and another officer wheeled him out of the OR. His face had been puffy but clear of blood. He had looked like her child, then, while he slept. The doctor assured her he wasn't going to die from her actions. She still didn't understand why McCoy had grown short-tempered with her after that remark about Kirk.

Her patience was near its end. She didn't like being confined and stationed with a watchdog. She didn't appreciate the way the others looked at her, like she was a criminal. So she had made the mistake of bringing Kirk to Tassos III. Once explained to the right parties, it meant little. It wouldn't even tarnish her record since Kirk had been returned alive into the hands of his crew. _She_ was to thank for that after all.

And she had been used, hadn't she?

Oh, this damn waiting made her thoughts circle each other.

It was unfortunate she couldn't trick the Starfleet officer as she had Tappan's man. Not that there was much to be gained. She wanted to take Ram with her when she left this godforsaken colony. He wasn't well enough to leave yet, not until the doctor cured him of his strange ailment.

"Let me see him," she demanded, her thoughts switching back to Tappan. Augustus would explain about Ramses and why he had been with Kirk. And if Augustus told her a little about his plan, she could offer it up to Commander Spock as part of her cooperation.

She loved him, she did, but he had certainly made a mess of everything. She could plead his case to the authorities later. There were ways to have him released before this went to trial. Perhaps then Augustus would finally feel grateful to her. Yes, she had to convince him to let go of this disaster. Whatever he wanted out of it, he would never achieve now.

The female officer, who had been talkative before, was annoyingly silent. She was likely thinking that she had put Karen in her place by having Commander Spock interrogate her.

Kirk's crew was becoming less and less likable. Why were they so loyal to him? Did they truly think they were the best starship crew in the galaxy?

Karen stepped up to the lieutenant's side. "Didn't you hear me? I will speak with your prisoner. He owes me an explanation."

The woman looked her straight in the eyes. "Do you think I'm actually stupid enough to let you stand in the same room as the man you take orders from?"

Karen was outraged. "I am a Federation ambassador! I take orders from no one!"

"Keep telling yourself that," the officer retorted and turned away.

Oh, this bitch was going to pay dearly for her insubordination. Karen would make certain of it.

That was when an idea occurred to her.

* * *

Leonard leaned against the doorjamb of the laboratory, feeling more drained than he should have after a few hours of administering medical care. "I found this in one of Jim's boots." He lifted a sealed test tube containing a small grain heads. "We have the source of the infection."

Spock moved away from his computer to inspect it.

"As you know," Leonard continued, "Jim wasn't in any condition to report on his experience. Luckily, Giotto had something to say. Remember the barn, the way it smelled like mold? The smell was stronger in the silo where the harvest is normally stored before processing and packaging, and he found out why. The colony's harvest is rotting, Spock."

"Why is it infectious to humans?"

"That I don't know." He pushed away from the door. "Nor do I know _how_ it's linked to our other problem."

Spock studied him. "But you still believe it is."

"Has to be. If only there weren't so many possibilities, if only we had some way to narrow it down medically. The pathogen cells could be the cause, of course, but that's not my gut feeling. I have no evidence to say it's the side effect of their immunity either. That leaves me with a chemical reaction, but there is nothing unusual about the manufacturing process that we could discover—which brings me circling back to the outbreak, to the infection itself. I don't know, Spock. What could they have done that..."

Leonard fell silent all of sudden. He slipped out of the lab without another word, unaware that Spock followed him. When he reached the small administrative office where they had imprisoned Tappan, he dismissed the guard.

Tappan observed him with a neutral expression.

Leonard asked him, "What antimicrobials did you use?"

Tappan raised an eyebrow.

"In order to save the crops, you would have attempted some kind of decontamination procedure. What did you try?"

Tappan still said nothing.

A burst of anger shot through Leonard. He was reaching for Tappan before he thought better of it.

Spock intervened, physically stepping between them.

Leonard moved around the Vulcan to glare at Tappan. "What did you try?" he repeated. "Oxidation? Peracid? Irradiation?"

Tappan asked, "Why do our failed attempts interest you?"

"Answer the damn question!"

"Doctor," Spock said.

"This is important," Leonard snarled.

Spock told Tappan, "Even if you refuse to answer, there are others who will talk. There are also computer records."

Tappan looked away. "The foreman was in charge of the disinfection. I wasn't involved."

"Then where are his reports?"

"My office, perhaps."

Leonard turned away. "Send someone to find them, Mr. Spock."

He heard Tappan ask with interest, "What do you suspect, Dr. McCoy?"

It was his turn to withhold answers. He left the office. Spock lingered a moment with Tappan, then invited the guard back into the room before catching up to him.

Leonard checked on Joran, Greene, and Leta's son. Then he returned to Jim's room and sat in a chair by Jim's bedside, watching the statistics dashboard on the biobed.

Spock came to stand beside his chair.

Eventually Leonard broke the silence. "The bastard knows what I'm after. That's why he wouldn't answer me."

"Most modern decontamination processes are not harmful to humanoids. Of those that are, which do you suspect?"

This time Leonard did answer: "There's a synthetic form of mephredone that in vapor form has an excellent success rate of eradicating high-resistance bacteria without corroding living tissue. But it has other dangerous properties. In the twenty-second century a group of scientists tried to develop a drug from it for the battlefield. To be blunt, a mind control drug." His voice grew flat. "The experiments were shut down as inhumane. Do you know why?"

"Beyond the obvious, I do not."

"Prolonged exposure to mephredone causes psychotic episodes. One of the test subjects went insane and killed two lab assistants before he was subdued. I didn't think of it at first because no one in their right mind would use it around people in this day and age, not to mention that no supplier would sell it without a government-approved release form, which would be damned difficult to obtain. Can't you see, Spock? It fits too well. Tappan knew what he was doing. However he got a hold of the stuff, he used it to control these people. He poisoned them for his own gain."

Spock stared down at Leonard. "Something else bothers you. What?"

Leonard almost didn't say it but with Spock looking at him, so willing to listen, so non-judgmental, he caved. "If the endgame was to take this colony for his own, Tappan had to have a legitimate reason to bring in the vapor without anyone suspecting an ulterior motive. So I have to wonder, Spock: did the grain become infected on its own... or with some help?"

"Your reasoning is surprisingly logical," Spock admitted.

"It's an awful thought. I don't want to believe a man could be so terribly selfish."

"We have encountered many such individuals on the course of this five-year mission."

"God help me, I know." Leonard watched the rise and fall of Kirk's chest. "I can't imagine how torturous this has been for Jim. He must have thought he had walked into the Tarsus IV nightmare all over again."

"Yes," was all Spock said.

Leonard reached up without thinking and gently encircled the Vulcan's wrist. "As much as I worry about you, Spock, you always hold it together better than the rest of us. I'll save Jim's life because I can't do anything less... but should something happen to me before we return to the Enterprise, promise me you will help him move past this." He looked up at Spock. "Jim would never admit that he's suffering, so it won't be easy. Promise me you'll try."

Spock moved his arm to gently dislodge the doctor's hand but rather than completely breaking contact, he slid his fingers across McCoy's palm.

"You love him," Spock said.

"Of course."

"You would give him over to my care because you think I love him as well."

Leonard countered quietly, "Don't you?"

"As a friend," Spock answered, "for almost four years."

"And how long as more than a friend?"

"Only recently."

Leonard nodded, expecting to hear that, and settled his hand back on his knee. "Then the promise should be easy to make."

"The promise is a matter of course. I am more concerned that you are not prepared to hear the rest of my admission."

The doctor blinked, for he hadn't considered Spock had something else to say. "What is it?"

"I—"

Sandeep swung into the room. "Dr. McCoy! Lt. Olivares collapsed!"

Leonard jumped out of his chair. "What happened?"

"She was watching the Ambassador when—"

As Sandeep relayed the story, Leonard stopped Spock from following him to the door. "Stay with Jim. Let no one in you don't trust."

Spock relented and returned to the side of the biobed.

Leonard blew out a breath, wiped the sweat gathering along his forehead, and hurried back to the patient ward.

* * *

Jim's dream had turned very strange. He was with Bones and Spock. Spock confessed to having feelings for him. His stalwart First Officer. Someone he cared for more than a friend should.

Spock was a secret Jim held in his heart which he shared with no one.

But Bones, with so much love of his own to give, accepted the confession without complaint, like it was a natural thing to share a love.

Jim realized then he was having the momentous kind of dream that should happen in real life. Yet, for a reason he could not discern, this particular dream had reached its end.

* * *

 **Some notes:  
1) This story marks another milestone: 1,800,000 words! Woohoo! Getting ever closer to that 2 million goal.  
2) Also, October may be a period of less frequent chapter updates. I have some RL activity that apparently takes precedence over Star Trek fanfiction, though that seems like a thing which should not be possible. I will try my best to keep to the weekly schedule. That said, we have four or five chapters left. It mainly depends on how much more I can torture our main characters.  
3) Lastly, I will not be writing my usual Space_Wrapped story this holiday season. Instead I am participating in a McSpirk challenge! Prompt collection will begin soon over at .com. If you submit a prompt, yours could be the one I pick to write! Yay for a McSpirk-y Christmas!**


	10. Part Ten

Scotty cracked his head on an open panel when the Bridge called to the Transporter Room.

"Me poor noggin'," he groaned as he backed out of the machine's innards. He sat up on his knees and slapped a hand to the top of the control station. "Scott here."

" _Transferring Dr. McCoy to you, Mr. Scott._ "

"Aye," he acknowledged.

A harried drawl filled the line. " _Scotty, is that damn contraption up and running yet?_ "

McCoy was as bad as Kirk, decided the engineer. "Another twenty minutes 'n she'll be ready, Doctor."

" _Can you make it ten?_ "

Scotty sighed. Yes, just like Kirk, always demanding the near-impossible in half the time he can feasibly get it done. Did no one realize that he was only human? "I'll give her all I've got."

" _Thanks. The package for pickup needs to go straight to Decontamination_."

He had anticipated that, which was why he was installing a bit of code that bypassed the normal routing of the molecules. The last thing anyone of them wanted was to infect the ship with whatever nastiness had taken hold of the landing party.

That brought his thoughts circling to another crisis. "Dr. McCoy, the Capt'n...?"

McCoy's drawl thickened. " _Hanging in there._ "

Which meant the doctor didn't have a good grasp of Kirk's prognosis. No wonder he was demanding a quicker turnaround on the transporter job.

"Everyone's on standby," Scotty said, offering what comfort he could. "As soon as the materials come through, your staff will jump on 'em."

" _Thank you, Mr. Scott._ " A short pause ensued. " _Sorry for snapping at you._ "

"Dinnae worry, I'll nae take it to heart. Scott out."

Shaking his head, Montgomery went back to work.

* * *

"You," claimed the woman who entered the small office in her most menacing tone, "are an ass."

"Karen, dear. How lovely to see you." Tappan smiled at her from the chair where he was bound.

Karen Leta walked up to her lover and slapped him across the face. The action was so satisfying that she did it a second time.

Augustus gave her a wry look. "Angry about something?"

"How dare you lock up my son!" she spat.

"Our son," the man corrected her. He leaned back in his chair. "I feel uncomfortable having this conversation with you while I'm tied up, love. Could you help me out?"

She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "I think you're exactly where you deserve to be."

"I wanted to protect Ramses. Have you not noticed how... dangerous our situation has become?"

Her gaze narrowed. "Danger which you invited, Augustus. Don't take me for a fool. I know very well why you're so smug. You think you've done something clever that Kirk and his crew won't figure out. Well, you stupid man, you're wrong. They have you by the balls. Or haven't _you_ noticed?"

"Mm," said Tappan. "I suppose I can concede that my current predicament is not ideal."

Leta bit her tongue for a moment but couldn't help asking, "Why place Ramses with Kirk?"

"You're aware of what our son thinks of us."

That wasn't a question. Karen frowned. "He's young. The young are rebellious. Weren't we the same at his age?"

"Darling, you were frightfully so. Why else would you have left behind a luxurious existence on Earth for an uncertain future with a penniless drifter?"

Because she had fallen in love with him. He knew that, the bastard. She looked away, not wanting to think of the past, her estranged family or her disinheritance.

"Karen," Tappan called her name softly.

"What?"

"It's not over yet for us."

She turned back to him. "What do you mean?"

He smiled again, this time genuinely. The smile lent some youth to his face. "I have had years to develop the perfect plan. How could this possibly be the end? Let me loose, love, and I will show you what comes next."

She took a step forward, almost did his bidding without taking a moment to think of the consequences. Then she remembered what she wanted from him.

"Tell me now," she said. "I'll trust your words more if I have something you want."

"Such as?"

She lifted her chin. "Freedom."

"Touché," murmured the man. He looked past her. "Where is my faithful guard? I wouldn't want him to hear of my nefarious plans."

Leta waved a hand dismissively. Augustus could be so dramatic at times. "Taken care of, obviously."

"Obviously," he repeated as he considered her. "In this facility, there is a hidden packet containing a very useful drug. I intend to finish what I started with Kirk."

She asked with interest, "Will it kill him?"

Tappan shook his head. "We don't want him to die, Karen. No, the drug will simply nudge him towards an appropriate decision."

"I don't understand. What is this about? Do you want to ruin his career?"

Tappan's eyes shone behind his glasses. "I want to begin mine."

She couldn't see it, his vision, but then again he had always been more imaginative than her.

"This colony must have its independence," Tappan went on to say. "Only once we have the proper leverage, an indisputable case, will the ones who hold us captive be forced to set us free."

"Through Kirk?" she surmised.

"Because of Kirk."

Karen studied the man she had clung to for more than half her life. "Tell me one thing, Augustus."

He waited.

"What did you do to the people of Tassos III?" _To Ram_ , the Ambassador didn't add. That bit of information, she planned to keep close until she could use it against him.

"I set the stage," was all her lover would admit to. "Now. Will you help me finish it?"

Karen untied the straps around the chair.

Tappan shucked them off and stood up. Then he enclosed her in his arms and kissed her.

When he pulled back, he said, "I hope you don't intend to betray me."

"That depends," she answered, "on whether you succeed or fail."

Grinning, Tappan let her go. "Come along. There are some loose ends which require tending."

* * *

Leonard rubbed his thumb across the top of his communicator but eventually set it aside. Scotty had to be tired of his requests for status updates, and pestering never made the process go quicker. His anxiety put him on edge but that didn't give him the right to spread the misery. He sighed and stretched his neck side to side. The movements didn't lessen his headache. The doctor grimaced.

The room had grown hotter in the last thirty minutes, to the point that his undershirt was sticking to him. He knew it wasn't the temperature control to blame, and that just made his anxiety grow. He couldn't afford to succumb to the infection spreading through their team.

And spreading it was. In the time he had been focused on treating the unconscious Olivares, two of Giotto's men had been carried into the ward, having collapsed while on duty. The officer who brought them looked nervous; he had already begun to show symptoms himself. Before long, McCoy knew, this facility would be inundated with patients.

Leonard pushed that thought aside and did the best he could. As the only trained medical personnel, he couldn't delegate certain tasks as he normally did in Sickbay so he worked as quickly as he could, moving from patient to patient, setting them up on the basic treatment for a flu-like illness.

There hadn't been time to return to his captain, who was by far the sickest of everyone. Leonard suspected Kirk's immune system played a major role in that. From what he could tell, Jim had had an allergic reaction to the unprocessed grain, which aggravated the bacteria already infiltrating his system and amplified the symptoms. Though most of the inflammation was now under control, Leonard knew it would be a matter of time before the true onslaught began. Normally he felt prepared to meet that battle, and did so with calm; but with the current lack of technology at his fingertips and Kirk's needs always requiring careful handling, he admitted to himself that he was scared. Old-fashioned doctoring could only work so well in treating a particular virulent case.

What if he lost Jim this time?

He knew what would happen then. He would give up. He didn't realize it until now but his love for Kirk was the one thing which could break him.

Did that mean he cared for Jim too much? Another thought for another time, he decided.

"Doctor."

"Not now, Spock. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"The Enterprise is ready to receive the package."

Leonard paused in what he was doing. "Can you take care of that?"

"I am here to inform you that I would."

He should have known. "Thank you."

"Thanks is unnecessary." Spock indicated the sweating, shivering man on the bed. "As you pointed out, you are otherwise occupied. Proceed."

Leonard nodded, redialed the dosage on his hypospray, and delivered a shot to the patient's neck. The fellow groaned.

Sandeep slipped up to his side. "We have another case."

"Damn," Leonard muttered. The incubation period was shorter than he had hoped for. "Sandeep, could you—" The doctor bit off his request as he looked up.

The man gave him a small smile, placing a hand to his cheek. "Not too ugly, is it?"

"You should find a bed for yourself," Leonard said sharply, turning Sandeep's head to the side for a better look at the rash.

"Negative, sir," his helper said politely, "I'm not dead yet. I can help."

Leonard's mouth thinned. "That's not funny, Lieutenant."

Sandeep apologized.

Pain stabbed behind Leonard's eyes. He closed them briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Dr. McCoy?"

"I'm all right," he lied. "Guess you are too, since you're still nattering at me. Make our new patient comfortable. I'll be with him in a minute."

The man nodded and left. Leonard finished up what he was doing and went towards the lab, only to go past it when he saw Giotto standing further along the hallway.

Giotto greeted him with a raised hand.

"Olivares will recover," he told the man, knowing that's the news Giotto wanted first. "She was slipped a dose of sedative, but thankfully it wasn't too much. In an hour or so she'll come around, probably with a bad headache. What I can't tell you is how the Ambassador got her hands on that vial."

"Security isn't at its strongest here," Giotto replied.

Leonard knew how much it probably stung the man's pride to admit that. "We can only try our best when our resources are limited." He sighed through his nose. "Speaking of, how many are left?"

Giotto's expression turned grimmer. "Five, including myself."

"Does that count also include Olivares and Sandeep?"

"Yes it does."

Olivares was out for at least an hour, and Sandeep wouldn't be on his feet much longer unless he resorted to taking a stimulant as Leonard had secretly done when Spock's back was turned.

Not good. Not good at all.

He knew they had an officer—the young engineer, Kolarski—still stationed at the central dome, Giotto was here, and there was one officer guarding Tappan.

" _Tappan,_ " Leonard sucked in a breath at the reminder and turned.

Giotto reached out to stall him. "That was the first place I looked for Leta. Lt. Danson knows to remain on alert."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "I can't believe I didn't think of it before now. If she gets to Tappan..."

"We've been in worse situations." Giotto gently turned McCoy in the direction from which he had come. "Focus on those who need your help the most, Dr. McCoy, and let the rest of us do what we do best."

Leonard nodded wearily. He started to walk away but thought of something and had to say it. "John..." Giotto's first name felt strange on his tongue. "I hope you haven't forgotten Captain Kirk's philosophy."

Giotto didn't smile but his voice warmed. "'No member of this crew is expendable.' Hard to forget it when Kirk takes it so seriously."

"Just because the captain isn't here to say it doesn't make it less true. Take care of yourself," Leonard warned him, "or you'll answer to Jim—and me."

"Acknowledged, sir," Giotto replied very formally.

Leonard harrumphed and hurried back to the ward. He would swing by Kirk's room on the way to the new patient. Spock, who was tasked with watching over Jim, would have let him know if something was amiss or urgent, but Leonard could use the reassurance.

He didn't expect to have the lab door slide open as he passed it by and an arm latch onto him.

"Hey!" he cried before he was dragged inside.

"Looking for me?" Karen Leta asked him.

Leonard swung around to face her. "What are you doing in here? What have you been up to?" he demanded.

"Oh, this and that," the woman teased him.

The lab door slid open again and Giotto barreled in.

Karen took advantage of Leonard's distraction to jerk him back against her, twisting his arm in the process so he couldn't escape without hurting himself.

Giotto jerked to a stop.

Leonard heard the triumph in Leta's voice. "I wouldn't come closer, Mr. Giotto, unless you want me to shoot Dr. McCoy."

That's when Leonard realized Leta had a phaser in her opposite hand. He cursed loudly. "Stun her!" he told Giotto. "She's bluffing!"

Giotto didn't react.

"Drop the phaser," Leta ordered.

Giotto dropped it.

"Back up."

Giotto backed up, through the door and into the corridor.

Leta marched Leonard forward, all the while using Leonard as her shield. She began to back them down the corridor.

"I have a complaint," the woman announced breezily.

"Me too," retorted Leonard. "Mine is that you've apparently lost your mind!"

"I think you don't plan to help my son. Let's fix that, shall we?"

What in blazes was she going on about? Maybe she _was_ crazy.

When they passed through the archway leading to the ward, from the corner of his eye Leonard watched Spock exit Kirk's room and freeze when he saw them.

"Ambassador," the Vulcan said at length, "if you will release Dr. McCoy..."

"Give me a reason to," Leta challenged.

There came the clatter of a tray hitting the floor behind them. When a startled Leta looked on instinct for the source of the sound, Leonard reacted quickly. He drove his shoulder back, throwing them both off balance, then hooked his ankle around hers and dropped them to the floor. Leta shoved him off of her and rolled one way. Leonard rolled the other. He saw her get up to run or attack, but Sandeep crashed into her from the side. The pair landed on the legs of one of Leonard's patients, before they fell off to the side of the biobed in a tangle of limbs.

Giotto rushed past him to aid Sandeep. Leonard witnessed nothing after that, for someone grabbed the back of his tunic and shoved him into the private exam room containing Kirk.

Leonard rounded on Spock once he was set free but had no chance to say anything.

" _Stay_ ," commanded the Vulcan, who then slapped the isolation lock on the inner wall of the room to engage it before he darted back into the ward.

Leonard sputtered for a few seconds, then had to yell at the infernal lock for almost a minute before the facility's computer decided to let him out.

 _Damn Vulcan and his damned tricky security protocols!_ fumed the doctor as he stalked back into the ward.

Neither Spock, Giotto, nor Sandeep were anywhere to be seen; Leta, either. They must have taken off in pursuit of her.

Leonard checked on Ramses to be certain he was still under sedation. Then, out of caution, checked on the sleeping Walken. Afterwards, he went about collecting the tools that had rolled away from the tray Sandeep had dropped in order to gain Leta's attention.

At first, he thought the soft scuff of boots against the floor belonged to Spock. No one else walked that quietly.

"Dr. McCoy."

But the amused voice calling him was not Spock.

When Leonard stilled, when he looked up, his face lost color. Later, he would come to realize how easily all of them had been fooled.

Tappan stepped away from a wall partition, pointed Giotto's phaser at the Chief Medical Officer, and fired.

* * *

"Doctor! Dr. McCoy!" came the cry ahead of the man who pelted into the ward, breathing in loud gasps. "Dr. McCoy, Mr. Spock said—"

He stopped talking when he saw the crumpled figure on the floor.

In horrified silence, he crossed the ward, dropped to his knees beside the body. Sandeep's hands shook as he rolled the blue-shirted man over onto his back.

 _Check for a pulse._

He checked. His unsteady fingers found nothing.

When he tried harder, out of mounting fear, he realized he hadn't positioned his fingers correctly across the neck. McCoy's pulse had a strong rhythm.

The lieutenant sat back with a thump onto the floor and choked on a scared laugh. After he dragged an arm across his eyes, he flipped open his communicator and called for help.

* * *

Leonard found it strange that his eyes were closed. It was even stranger, when he opened them, to discover a Vulcan leaning over him.

"...Dr. McCoy?"

Spock's normal monotone was noticeably tense.

Leonard quelled his disorientation. "What happened?" He became aware of what was wrong with his view of the world. "Why am I lying down?"

"Lt. Balasubramaniam discovered you in an unconscious state." The skin around Spock's eyes was stretched taut with worry. "Readings indicated heavy stun."

 _Tappan_.

Leonard paled and tried to sit up, which turned out to be impossible with Spock pinning one of his shoulders to the biobed. "Let me up." He struggled harder. "I said let me up! I saw Tappan."

Spock's voice took on a flat quality. "Then it is as suspected. We discovered his escape too late. Lt. Danson had also been stunned. He is recovering." The Vulcan pressed for information. "What did he say to you? What did he do before stunning you?"

Leonard swallowed. "Not a thing. Spock, they played us, Tappan and Leta."

Spock eased back, saying nothing.

Leonard started to close his eyes in exhaustion, then snapped them open again and promptly renewed his struggles to sit up. "My god, Jim!"

"The Captain is unharmed."

But Spock sounded strange to McCoy's ears. He grabbed the Vulcan's collar. "Don't lie to me, Spock! What happened to Jim?"

"Nothing that I can discern. However... Mr. Greene is dead."

The news shouldn't have impacted the doctor so hard, but it did. It took him a moment to work through his shock. "...Let me up."

This time, Spock wordlessly helped Leonard to his feet.

Leonard started in one direction before changing his mind. _The living first_ , he had to remind himself. He went to Kirk's bedside instead of Greene's.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Jim's face was slack in repose. Ignoring Giotto's presence, Leonard sank to the edge of the bed and placed a hand against Jim's face. The skin was cool to the touch; the fever had broken in the interim.

Spock handed him a tricorder.

Leonard scanned Kirk and consulted the results. Then he picked up Jim's index finger and let the tricorder collect a drop of blood to analyze. He stood up, saying, "He's stable for now." Then he asked more hollowly, "Where did you put the body?"

"We have not moved him yet."

Spock nodded to Giotto before following Leonard to his next destination.

The doctor drew back the sheet stretched over Greene and stared at his face, composed in a way that was far different than Kirk's. He touched the man's neck out of habit, his shoulders rounding down in defeat when he couldn't find a pulse.

Swallowing down guilt, he said, "If I had been paying better attention, I could have prevented this."

Spock covered Greene again. "You were merely an obstacle in Tappan's way, one which he would have dealt with more harshly had you attempted to come between him and his target."

"Greene was recovering."

"That may be the precise reason why Tappan killed him, Doctor. Dead men cannot speak."

Leonard swayed on his feet. Hands steady him. "Tappan would have been smarter to kill me when he had the chance."

"Let us be thankful that he did not."

Leonard looked up at Spock. "I don't want to be grateful to a murderer."

Spock's hands rose from McCoy's shoulders to his face, which the Vulcan cupped gently. "I never expected to say this to you, Doctor, but you must know. If you die, I will be inconsolable."

At first, Leonard thought Spock had made a tactless joke but as Leonard studied his companion's face he realized Spock was serious—as serious as his delivery had been. The doctor didn't know what to say.

Spock released him. "You are confused."

"I... suppose I am."

"How is my affection for you confusing?"

"I didn't know you felt affection, Spock."

Spock reminded him, "You are the one who insists I feel, Doctor."

"Yes but—" Damn, why did Vulcans have to be so literal? Leonard flushed. "We should table this discussion for later."

"When?"

Did Spock really want to have this awkward conversation? Why? "Until we have less pressing matters," he insisted.

The Vulcan looked like he would have negotiated with that, except in that moment the tricorder in McCoy's hand beeped and Leonard hurriedly backed away, feigning the need to read the results in private.

"Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy," interrupted Sandeep, the man's voice soft in a way that meant he thought they might be having a private moment between them.

"Yes, Lt. Balasubramaniam?"

"I found something when I was—"

The conversation faded to background noise as Leonard's gaze stuck on a single line of his tricorder report and his stomach turned.

Some seconds passed before Spock noticed the doctor was truly distracted. "Dr. McCoy?"

Leonard snapped out of it and, saying nothing, pushed past Spock and Sandeep. He ran back to Kirk's room.

Giotto met him at the doorway with a disturbed expression. "The Captain woke up."

Jim was indeed awake. He was sitting up in bed and diligently pulling off the various monitor pads attached to his left arm.

"Jim," Leonard called his name, clutching his tricorder tightly.

"Bones," Kirk replied in kind without looking at his friend. "Apparently Mr. Giotto only had silence to report. I expect you will do better."

Leonard came forward when Jim threw his legs over the edge of the bed. "No, don't get up just yet."

Kirk gave him a quizzical look.

Falling back on formality that came with acknowledging rank, he explained, "Captain, we're under medical quarantine. I recommend that you allow me to examine you before you decide what happens next."

"I feel fine, McCoy."

He held up his tricorder. "My device says otherwise."

Kirk's eyes narrowed to slits, and the man came to his feet. Then the mood in the room changed again as Kirk suddenly relaxed and plucked at his grey jumpsuit.

"What is this?" he laughed. "Where's my uniform?"

Spock came forward, stopping at McCoy's side. "It was necessary to remove it, Captain. I second Dr. McCoy's concern."

Kirk approached them, saying, "Your concerns are unwarranted, gentlemen. I want answers. Mr. Spock, report."

Leonard wasn't surprised when Spock remained silent, nor was he surprised when the Vulcan turned to him in question.

Kirk didn't like that. He snapped more angrily, "Report!"

Leonard met Spock's gaze. "There's a toxin in his blood, similar to what I told you about—a lot of it."

Kirk's hands curled into fists. "Commander! Lieutenant-Commander! I want a status report!"

A muscle jumped in Spock's cheek. He returned his attention to Kirk.

"Jim, calm down," Leonard said. "I need to take a look at you. It'll be quick, I promise."

Jim's face hardened. The man pivoted on his heel and marched towards the biobed—only to grab a rolling cart at the last second and send it flying at them. Then he charged.

Spock fended him off easily, but Leonard didn't know what to do. He couldn't hit Jim. In the end, he managed to grab Kirk from behind, to tether one of the arms beating at Spock and press against Jim's back.

Pinned between Spock and McCoy, Kirk tried unsuccessfully to throw them off several times. His struggling eventually subsided into winded pants and then charged silence. Neither Spock nor McCoy dared let go of him.

"Spock," Leonard pleaded, his voice muffled against Kirk, "just do it."

Jim went limp in his arms a moment later, and together the two officers lowered the man to the ground.

Staying in a crouch, Leonard ran a hand down his face. "Tappan got to him."

Spock laid a hand against Kirk's neck. "What must be done?"

"I don't know," answered the doctor solemnly. "I truly don't know."

* * *

Tappan caught up to Karen on a side path leading from the medical facility to the rest of the colony.

"You made it," she said approvingly.

Augustus swept an imaginary hat off his head and offered her a gentleman's bow. "And how does the lady fare?"

She patted her messy hair. "I believe one might call me victorious." Then she sobered. "Did you see Ramses? How did he look?"

"I have no doubt he will be feeling like himself soon." Tappan offered her his arm.

She glanced back in the direction of the facility as she took it. "Are you certain the disorder won't leave him permanently damaged?"

"Not if treated quickly—and I assure you, Karen, Kirk's doctor will soon have a pressing need for the cure." Having said that, he gently tugged on her arm. "Truly, our boy couldn't be in better hands. Now come. I have something to show you."

And so, arm-in-arm, they went back to the central dome to free the people of Tassos III.


	11. Part Eleven

To say Lt. Andrew Kolarski appeared nervous was an understatement. When two of Giotto's team had collapsed and then a third within the next hour, the officer with whom Andy had been partnered had vowed to return as quickly as he could from the excursion for medical aid. Hours later, the man remained missing in action. Andy felt certain this signified bad news, the kind which not only meant he was alone in enemy territory but also confirmed he was on borrowed time. It didn't matter that he felt fine (albeit terrified out of his mind). Dr. McCoy had enacted a planetary quarantine, which meant no one could leave Tassos III until the quarantine was removed. Andy just wished he knew if he would be alive when that happened.

Kolarski stood as the solitary figure of authority inside a makeshift brig with a dozen or more groups of angry citizens who took turns glaring at him and occasionally throwing their shoes at the portable force fields that contained them. Sunset had come and gone, and the occasional creak echoed from the rafters overhead. His present circumstances seemed to have all the makings of those horror films he loved so much. Starring in one of them, however, gave the whole genre far less appeal.

Mr. Scott had warned his lads that no personnel on the Enterprise were exempt from the dangers of their five-year mission. Intellectually, Andy knew that very well. Working aboard a starship didn't come without risk, and once one factored in the frontier of space, most of it still unknown, the risk became exponential. Yet, until this mission, that warning hadn't seemed particularly applicable to him. Now he knew he could die. It was as easy as someone who didn't care about him walking through the front door and deciding to end his life.

Maybe it was his morose state of mind which prompted him to peer out the side window; maybe it was what his mother liked to call the family intuition, which for all twenty-something years of his life seemingly bypassed his twig of the family tree; or maybe it was pure luck. Whatever it was saved his life. He saw his would-be murderers coming.

A well-trained security officer would have stood his ground, might have plotted how to overtake the two individuals skirting the walkway of the dome in the dark. But Andrew had no misconceptions about himself. He was uncomfortable with the poorly charged phaser in his hand, he didn't have great aim, and his hand-to-hand combat skills were only of a passing grade.

 _You know what?_ the young man thought. _They can demote me to Ensign and send me home to the Academy. Without backup, it's suicide to stay here!_

He gave the large assembly room one last glance, silently apologized to his captain, and abandoned his post.

The colonists watched with interest as the officer ran across the large hall. Some of them called to him, inviting him to free them; others jeered. Andy ignored them all and ducked through an archway leading to a short corridor of offices. He didn't know where he was going, per se, but he knew there had to be another exit to the outside. The shaft work along the top of the dome would have several access ports, but it was common sense to check the ground level before climbing up.

The office spaces gave way to a passage to a kitchen with two cold freezers and locked doors. Past the kitchen the corridor curved along the outer wall with a series of guest quarters situated on either side. Andy thought he had found his way out. The last door he tried was unlocked and slid open to admit him into small but neatly arranged living quarters. The window, however, was a great disappointment. It was a simple projection pane on the wall, turning translucent to show him the night sky and the neighboring domes when he placed a hand against the sill.

With a curse he hurried to the only other door across the room. The lock was engaged so he blasted its control panel, which fizzled and popped before its mechanism defaulted to emergency protocol. The door came open—and a man fell out.

From the floor, the man blinked owlishly at Andrew.

Andrew blinked back, and they both shrieked.

"Hold it right there!" he cried as the man started babbling and scrambled forward to grab a hold of his legs.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I thought I was going to die in there!"

Andy wobbled under the onslaught of enthusiastic gratitude. "Hey, let go!"

Finally the man sat back on his heels and wiped at his eyes. "Mister, you saved my life. I must've passed out. I'm claustrophobic."

Andrew recognized him as the one who had helped Walken take away Kirk and Leta's son. He had no clue how Longwell would have ended up locked inside a bathroom, but that hardly mattered. He trained his phaser on the guy, hoping the guy didn't notice the blinking light on the side of the phaser that meant it had an extremely low charge.

"You're under arrest," he said, "by order of the Acting Captain of the United Starship Enterprise."

The man snuffled into his sleeve. "All right. Just don't put me back in the bathroom."

Andy eyed him with caution. "Stand up."

The man slowly came to his feet, pitiful-looking in his rumpled jumpsuit. "Did the Ambassador tell you where to find me?"

Well, now he knew who had terrified the guy. "She did," he lied as an idea occurred to him. "It's bad news for you, Mr. Longwell. We have your team—including your boss."

The man deflated further. "Knew this job was a bad idea but we were recommended and Tom was all about the credits. The Governor promised him double-pay if we stayed on after..." He trailed off.

Andy guessed, "After you rid yourselves of pesky Starfleet?"

Longwell frowned. "And the sponsor." He looked around. "Are you recording this?"

Andy cleared his throat. "I will be. Come with me, and don't try any funny business."

The man held out his empty hands as if to say _with what?_ Together, they left the guest quarters.

"We're taking the quickest route out of here," Andy informed his prisoner. "You lead."

The plan worked. Longwell took them to an exit, unlocked it with a code that the engineer watched and memorized before they stepped outside.

Longwell asked, "What now?"

"Now I shoot you, Marcus," came the cold reply from the person stepping out of the shadows behind them.

Andy didn't think. He ducked and rolled.

Longwell was not so lucky. He barely made a sound, and then he was engulfed in the brightness of phaser fire. A moment later, the spot where the man had stood was empty.

Andy ran without looking back. He couldn't even tell where he was going but that didn't matter to him. With every passing second he feared he would feel his molecules burning away. When his legs were close to giving out, he wedged himself into a narrow space between two stacks of containers and held his breath. He listened. He waited.

Only then did it occur to him, in the reigning silence, that Augustus Tappan hadn't been aiming at him to begin with.

* * *

Leonard lifted his head from his hands when a cup was placed beside his elbow. Expressing his thanks, the doctor cradled it and inhaled the steam, savoring the smell of coffee. Habit had him complaining, "I bet it tastes awful."

Spock took a seat on an empty stool beside him.

"All replicated coffee is awful," Leonard went on to explain, "but since you made it, I'll drink it."

"The coffee would taste the same regardless of who operated the machine, Doctor."

"I'm saying it's the thought that counts, you literal-minded elf."

"I see."

Leonard had his doubts that Spock did, but that was an argument for another time. He sipped the beverage then set it aside in order to pick up a data padd. "These are the readings from the cortical monitor on Leta's son." Pointing to one section of the graph, he said, "This is what it looks like when he's asleep. See? Fairly normal for a psy-null's brain activity."

Spock leaned closer, commenting as he studied the display, "I am not a neuroscientist."

Leonard snorted and pointed to another section. "This is from the brief period when we roused him."

"The difference is significant."

"The chemical alters his thinking patterns only when he is conscious." Leonard snorted. "Gives a new meaning to the phrase 'sleeping like a baby'."

Spock looked at him. "I am not familiar with that reference."

"Jim sleeps like a baby after he has had two shots of Saurian brandy."

"Ah." Spock paused briefly. "I have a suggestion."

"I'm listening."

"I could attempt to reach the Captain in his sedated state."

"And risk waking the sleeping beast?" Leonard stared at the far wall. "What would that gain us, Spock?"

"A chance to consult with him."

"Supposing you did rouse Jim and not his crazy counterpart, I still don't follow you. What do you need from him that he hasn't already told us through Giotto?"

Spock looked at him. "Would you not benefit from an opportunity for advice?"

"I want Jim back," he replied succinctly. "In the meantime, let's not torture ourselves or him."

Attuned to Spock's mood, Leonard felt him turn pensive. He said, "I know how you feel. You want the reassurance that we haven't lost him but, Spock, you'll have to go on faith a little while longer. If there isn't another way, if I can't find a medical solution, then we will try the alternative. Does that seem fair?"

"Fairness was not a concern. As you pointed out, Dr. McCoy, I am simply... worried." Spock's gaze touched upon his clasped hands. "I trust your expertise in this matter."

The swell of soft emotion Leonard felt upon hearing that nearly overwhelmed him. He kept his hands locked on the edges of his PADD, for otherwise he might have done something silly like slip an arm across the Vulcan's back in a one-armed hug or possibly dropped his forehead to that bony shoulder. He knew, somehow, he could count on the Vulcan to comfort him or he could offer comfort without the usual stodgy response or aloof behavior. There had been a change between them during the last few hours, however indefinable it was. Had it really been earlier in the day that they were at each other's throats?

Yes, he and Spock were closer than they had ever been.

Leonard ducked his head and kept a tight rein on his emotions. No need to alarm the hobgoblin just because he was feeling a little sentimental. Fumbling with the PADD's display, he eventually found a screen that diverted his attention.

"I have research to do," he said. "Why don't you keep an eye on Jim?"

"I would like to assist you."

Leonard absentmindedly scratched at the rash on his collarbone as he scrolled through a data table. "You need to rest while you can, Spock. Or have you forgotten that you're infected?"

"I told you I am—"

Oh, Leonard had heard that song and dance before. He put down the tablet. "If you say 'fine', I'll schedule a full psychological evaluation for you upon our return to the ship."

"Doctor, you underestimate—"

"Bah!" he exclaimed, turning fully towards Spock. "I know you think your Vulcan powers are beyond a human's comprehension but don't kid yourself, Commander—I am not fooled! It's obvious you've got some kind of internal hokey-pokey going on so I don't strap you down to a biobed and force-feed you vitamins. Keep in mind that eventually you will wear down like the rest of us."

"Like you in particular?" countered Spock. "Or perhaps you would prefer to continue taking stimulants until you experience cardiac arrest."

Leonard opened and closed his mouth. "How did you know about that?"

"It is my duty to know. Some time ago I noted that you carried more than the allotted amount of stimulant cartridges in your medical kit and, on occasion, used one for yourself."

Leonard said nothing for a moment. Then, "You haven't reported it."

Spock folded his hands on the counter top. "I assumed you knew your limitations." His tone of voice hardened slightly. "I do not wish to be proven wrong."

Only a fool wouldn't recognize one of Spock's threats. Leonard was hardly a fool. He sniffed. "Fine. I won't take another stimulant—but you had better prepare yourself to prop me up when the time comes!"

Spock blinked. "I am prepared."

"In a pig's eye," muttered the doctor. "Now stop pestering me. I have to whip up a cocktail to cure a rainy day."

The Vulcan deadpanned, "I highly doubt you could achieve that level of piety."

Leonard burst out laughing. "Why, I'll be! That was a funny joke, Mr. Spock."

"Vulcans do not have a sense of humor, Doctor." That said, Spock left McCoy to his own devices.

Still chuckling to himself, Leonard opened his communicator.

Uhura answered the hail.

"Put me through to Dr. M'Benga please," he requested.

M'Benga's greeting was " _You must have read my mind. I was about to contact you._ "

"All right then, you go first."

" _To confirm: I received the extra samples of your blood._ "

"Don't mention it." And he meant that, surreptitiously looking around for any lurking Vulcans. Spock took 'mother hen' to a whole new level. Only God knew why.

" _You were right in your supposition, Doctor. The fungus has origins outside Tassos III_."

"Initially I thought the microbes were completely unknown—but we're not talking about an uninhabited planet in a star system we've never encountered. The odds of this particular set being new are actually very low. Then I came into some information that suggested the bacteria and fungi might have been introduced into the ecosystem. Since I couldn't readily identify a co-evolving species from our database, that implied mutation."

" _I assume there's a long story behind the source of your information?_ "

Leonard smiled at Geoff's dry tone. "Very long, Dr. M'Benga, so I'll spare you the details for the moment. What did you find out?"

" _We identified the molecular trace as a variety of Claviceps purpurea_."

He sucked in a breath. "Ergot? We've known about that for centuries!"

" _Yes, because it's fairly common on Terra and infectious to all animals, including humans. This mutation of it is more unique, particularly virulent—and has been seen only once before in history._ "

Leonard broke out in a cold sweat. "Tarsus IV."

" _Doctor..._ " M'Benga's tone became troubled. " _Not much information was released to the public about the... genocide. Only a handful of specialists were allowed to perform cases study in the aftermath to help us understand how and why the colony's crops became infected, what it did to the plant life and people. Even then, from a scientific perspective, those details were sparse and I say that as someone who has read a majority of the publications._ "

"So have I." He began to see the direction Geoff was taking and he didn't like it.

" _I don't want to sound paranoid but if you are correct in that it was purposely introduced to Tassos III... We've never encountered it anywhere else in the four quadrants, meaning its origins most likely came from a preserved culture._ "

Leonard finished more softly, "A culture owned by Starfleet, supposedly locked up in the Archives. Dr. M'Benga, it's very important that you speak of this to no one else. You never know which ears are listening. Understand?"

" _Fully, sir._ "

"Good." He added in a grim tone, "This damn incident is starting to make a lot more sense than it should."

" _If I can be of any help, let me know._ "

"Right now I need you focused on what you do best, Geoff. What do we have on file for the treatment of our variation of _Claviceps purpurea_?"

" _Medically speaking, none. The survivors of Tarsus IV were never infected._ "

Leonard's stomach sank. "Then we'll start with the treatments used for any sister species. Transmit everything you have to a PADD and ask Scotty to send it to me. I need to come up with a solution, and soon."

" _Your log mentioned one of your infected patients was recovering after a blood transfusion, but you didn't extract the antibodies. Why weren't they viable?_ "

For a good reason, thought Leonard, remembering Jim's attack. "We recently discovered the blood packets are from the colonists, who are carrying a toxin which causes mental debilitation. I'll admit I was a fool to start that transfusion without checking the source of the donation first." He knew the repercussions of such a mistake; there was no way to know now if that action would have been fatal for Greene. "We have to find another way."

The other doctor's silence was understanding.

Leonard sighed, ready to wrap up their call with a list of supplies he needed.

Then M'Benga said, " _There's something else._ "

"I'm listening."

" _Mr. Spock's symptoms haven't progressed beyond the skin rash?_ "

"Not that I can tell."

" _I think I discovered the reason why._ "

Leonard perked up.

" _His body is creating its own antibodies._ "

"Well, I'll be damned," said Leonard. "Is there anything Vulcan physiology can't do? I guess it would be too much to hope for that I can use his antibodies in a human."

" _I'm afraid not. The protein complex is structurally similar to the sample you provided, but it's too aggressive._ "

"Damn, that is out. The last thing a sick man needs is a Vulcan virus running rampant through his already compromised immune system." He grinned a little and asked slyly, "Do you think a shot of vitamins would speed along Mr. Spock's recovery?"

" _It couldn't hurt if it's the right mixture._ "

"Oh, I always pack at least two of those special Vulcan hypos you put together, Geoff."

" _Somehow I don't think Mr. Spock will appreciate your thoughtfulness, sir._ "

Leonard bit down on his lip to contain his mirth. "He never does."

" _Is there anything else that you need?_ "

Clearing his throat, Leonard said, "A few supplies. You might want to write them down."

M'Benga did.

* * *

Blanca was both embarrassed and angry to learn that Leta had managed to put her out of commission for nearly two hours. She was angrier to hear that during those hours Leta had hurt Lt. Danson, helped Tappan escape, and killed a man.

"Let me up."

The security-officer-turned-medical-aid sitting beside her adjusted the thermal blanket over her legs but wouldn't meet her eyes. "You have to wait for Dr. McCoy's approval."

She balled her fists and smacked them against the blanket. "I don't have to wait on anyone!" Pain stabbed just behind her left eye, which she ignored. "This is a crisis situation, Sandeep! All I need is a phaser and my damn boots! Where did you hide them?"

Sandeep picked at a loose thread. "Most patients won't run around barefoot. That's what my mother always says."

She made a sound like a tea kettle boiling over. "When I get out of this bed—!"

"There's something you need to know," Sandeep said more quietly.

Blanca restrained her temper. "What is it?"

"Captain Kirk... He's been compromised."

Fear washed over her. "Compromised in what way?"

The lieutenant kept his gaze lowered. "Kirk attacked Commander Spock and Dr. McCoy. "

That was difficult to imagine. "Why would he do that?"

Sandeep shook his head. "We both know he wouldn't do it in his right mind, which is the problem. McCoy thinks Tappan drugged him."

Her temper exploded again. "The bastard!" she snarled. "As if it wasn't enough to kill our men and torture Kirk! Now he wants to turn our captain against us? Who'll be next? Give me my phaser!" Barefoot or not, she would track the enemy down. He clearly had to be stopped by whatever means necessary.

Sandeep looked at her, asking oddly, "Just how enraged are you feeling right now?"

"To the point that I want to punch Tappan until he cries."

The man nodded sharply. "Good. Your boots are under the bed."

She regarded him warily. "What are you up to, Lieutenant?"

"I think it's your turn to help me, you and Danson," Sandeep said. He gestured at the rash covering part of his cheek. "I don't want to wait around until I'm useless. We need to stop them while we can, Blanca."

She couldn't agree more, but she knew who wouldn't agree. "We're all that's left of the ground team. The boss won't throw us to the wolves."

He just continued to look at her.

"Then again, no one is in their right mind today," Olivares decided, throwing back her blanket. "Let's do this. Where's Danson?"

"Still pretending to be semi-conscious from the heavy stun." Sandeep glanced over his shoulder. "Mr. Spock is working on something in the control room right now. I'll ask him to check on Kirk in ten minutes. Then the three of us should meet up in the waiting area."

Olivares laid back down with a smile. "You're sneakier than I thought you were, Lt. Balasubramaniam. I like it."

"See you in ten," was all her companion said as he picked up a bedside tray and walked away.

* * *

"Just received it, sir."

" _Very good. I expect you will proceed with caution. Until such time that the individual is positively identified, our main priority must be to protect the confidentiality of these exchanges._ "

"Aye." Scotty took a few seconds to glance over the list of names and ranks and whistled. "I'm impressed. How did you manage to get this done so quickly?"

" _Vulcans have exceptional memory, Mr. Scott. It was a simple exercise in composing my knowledge into a readable format. You will notice within the summarization the candidates are ranked by likelihood of their association with the admiral responsible for the cease-and-desist order. Additionally, I was able to conduct some research into their backgrounds through a personal contact. There are three officers with unusual or particularly interesting connections which will require further scrutiny. I have marked them accordingly. Please express my gratitude to Lt. Uhura for her assistance in my communications._ "

"I will, and I'll pass this list on to the team. Uhura can review and monitor their recent communiqués, and Sulu has volunteered to do a wee bit of private investigation, given that he's got more insider knowledge of our crew members than all of Senior Command combined."

" _Mr. Scott, there are some facts of which a First Officer should not be made aware."_

Scotty chuckled. "Ignorance isn't bliss but it does make it easier to sleep at night, sir."

" _Precisely._ "

He teased, "Then I should nae tell you about that time Captain Kirk—"

" _Negative_ ," interrupted the Vulcan quickly. " _Greetings, Lt. Balasubramaniam. I will be available in a moment. Mr. Scott, your report is appreciated. Please continue to keep me apprised of the ship's status on an hourly basis_."

Scotty accepted the dismissal, understanding why Spock wanted to keep the conversation private. "Hang in there, Commander."

" _Spock out._ "

Pocketing the small data padd, he went to stand in the doorway between the Ready Room and the upper deck of the Bridge. The men and women on duty turned to look at him.

"Lt. Uhura," he called. "Lt. Sulu, a word."

Sulu and Chekov traded a glance. Scotty would give Sulu permission to include the navigator in the investigation on the condition that Chekov kept a cool head. No matter what kind of interrogation methods were used in Russia, they did not need to tip their hand to Command's spy that they were trying to sniff him out.

As Uhura and Sulu followed him into the Ready Room, Scotty made a mental note to call down to Sickbay and check on the status of their special assignment. By the time this fiasco was over, he decided, everyone on board would need an extended shore leave to recuperate.

* * *

Commander Spock entered the small recovery room and said to John, "You require a break, Mr. Giotto. You may return at twenty-one hundred hours."

"I am comfortable where I am," John responded evenly. His legs and back ached but he had endured worse during his stint as Kirk's Chief of Security.

The Vulcan added pointedly, "Dismissed."

The direct order would allow John to rest for thirty minutes and yet he discovered he was reluctant to leave, command or not. He felt a red alert at the back of his neck (that was what Kirk called the ability to sense trouble on the horizon), and so the last thing John wanted to do was leave his captain unprotected.

Spock seated himself at the edge of Kirk's biobed before turning to fix an unblinking stare upon him.

Giotto swallowed a sigh of frustration, pivoted around, and marched through the doorway. He leaned against the outer wall and remained there for some time even after the door to Kirk's room slid shut, orienting himself to the change in surroundings. As he surveyed the patient ward, he noted several occupied beds and the lack of attending staff. Then he noticed something which was far more concerning and quickly pushed away from the wall.

Olivares' bed was empty, its blanket discarded on the floor. The monitor alarms of the adjacent medical equipment had been set to silent. Flinging back the curtain around Danson's bed, he found it empty too.

Touching the phaser in his holster to assure himself it was still there, John made a beeline for the control room where he and Sandeep had inventoried the remaining weapons in their possession.

"Idiots!" he snapped when he saw that two phasers and three communicators were missing.

He started back to Kirk's room but pulled up short at the realization that, above all, he couldn't alert Mr. Spock to their missing crewmen. Last time Kirk had paid dearly for their inattention. No, someone had to stay and that someone currently was not Giotto.

With a grim, rather unpleasant smile, he set off in search of his wayward charges. If they planned to do what he suspected of them, they were going to regret the day they agreed to serve under him!

* * *

"Let's keep this short," Blanca told her two companions. "We need to be en route before the boss figures out that we're AWOL and stuns our asses."

"I've been stunned," pointed out Danson. "It sucks."

"Then we're agreed on where we need to go?" Sandeep insisted.

"It's not like there are too many places Tappan and Leta could be," Danson said. "If they wanted to hide well, only a tricorder could help us find them, but we know they think too highly of themselves to do that."

"They will head for the central dome," Olivares agreed. "Does anyone remember who we left behind there?"

For some reason, Danson frowned. "Hey guys..."

"Lt. Kolarski, I think," answered Sandeep. "If he's alive, that makes four of us. With the element of surprise, our ambush might actually succeed."

"Guys!" Danson pointed out the window. "You were saying something about Kolarski?"

Sandeep and Blanca followed his gaze. Blanca gasped and bolted for the double doors.

"Wait!" Sandeep cried as she unlocked them and flung one door open.

"Andy, over here!"

The man who darted into the facility was dirty from head to toe and sweating. He also looked terrified.

Blanca grabbed one of Kolarski's arms when he started to collapse. Danson grabbed the other. Together, they dragged the young man to a chair.

Andrew stuck his head between his knees and took long, wheezing breaths.

"Andy, what happened?" she asked him anxiously.

"Bad," came the mumbled response. "Real bad."

Sandeep squatted in front of the engineer. "Specifics, Andy."

Andy's head snapped up, his eyes widening. "Lock the door!"

Danson cursed and hurried back to the open door.

" _Kolarski_ ," barked a new voice, "report!"

Suddenly Blanca wanted to hide. Seeing how Sandeep and Danson blanched, she figured she wasn't the only one. Instead the woman forced herself to turn around and face her pissed-off commander.

Giotto strode through the middle of their group and stopped in front of Kolarski. Without taking his eyes off the young man, he said, "Hand over your phasers, Lieutenants."

"Sir," she began nervously.

"We're going to need them, Mr. Giotto," Andy interrupted in a quivering voice. "Tappan is coming."

"Explain."

"At first he killed Longwell—one of his men. I ran. Then I realized he could have easily killed me too but let me escape. I started to go back, to figure out what he was up to if I could—and saw them." His face grew paler. "He freed the colonists, sir, and they're coming for us."

Olivares exchanged looks with Sandeep and Danson.

Giotto's gaze swept the waiting room, lingered on the pair of windows that displayed the empty lawn surrounding the building. Then he said, "Danson, you're our lookout. The moment something moves outside which isn't part of the scenery, report to me."

"Aye, sir."

"Olivares, return to the ward and tell Mr. Spock the facility shields need to be activated. Sandeep, you fetch McCoy. Go now." Giotto flipped open his communicator. "Giotto to Enterprise. Come in, Enterprise."

They didn't linger to question his orders. There was no reason to. If Kolarski was right, an army of crazed men and women were on their way to destroy them.

Blanca finally began to wonder if their group had enough fight left in them to survive the night.


	12. Part Twelve

Leonard had promised Spock he wouldn't take another stimulant. Now he sorely regretted that rash decision.

Dosing himself with more fever-reducer, the doctor bent over a modern-day centrifuge and fumbled with the placement of the test tubes. His body was experiencing a bone-deep ache that made it painful to move. He didn't know which was worse: the constant joint pain or the insufferable heat of his fever which made him crave an arctic blast of air. At one point, he had contemplated giving up, had dropped his forehead to the table top and counted out thirty seconds before rallying back to work. He was both anxious and full of dread. If this next version of treatment didn't at least show signs of slowing the infection down, he would be back to square one. He started the machine, prepared the analyzer for the results, and turned his attention to the other problem awaiting him.

The latest readout from the cortical monitor attached to Leta's son by itself was interesting. Now he had another data set to compare it to. Under Giotto's watchful eye, he had attached a monitor to Kirk and taken measure of the man's brain activity. It had been an unpleasant experience before Kirk's sedation took effect, listening to their captain threat to harm them if the bed restraints were not promptly removed. Leonard was grateful he had endured that experience. The monitor provided valuable information. There was something telling about the patterns from both the monitors, something that niggled at his memory. He had been methodically working through the various counteragents for mephredone poisoning but it seemed whatever concoction Tappan had used on his people and Kirk was not the standard black market fare. Still, that familiar something could be the key to the antidote. Leonard clung to the hope that he remembered what it was before he was truly incapacitated by his own illness.

He heard the lab door slid open across the room and remarked, as he fiddled with a notation in his medical log, "I thought I told you to stay with Jim."

"Dr. McCoy."

Leonard looked around, then, and smiled somewhat sheepishly. "I apologize, Sandeep. I mistook you for Mr. Spock."

Sandeep didn't return the smile. "Doctor, you're needed out front."

Leonard's good humor faded. Pressing his mouth flat at this news, he reached for his tricorder. "Which patient?"

Sandeep shook his head. "Not in the ward, sir. We're under—"

Irritation bubbled up, prompting Leonard to interrupt. "If nobody's dying, then can't you see I'm busy? Damn it, Sandeep, I don't have time to—"

"We are going to die!" the other man snapped back.

Leonard was momentarily shocked into silence.

"Tappan is coming," Sandeep continued as the doctor stared at him, "with an army."

Leonard squashed down a surge of panic and hurried around the counter separating them. "What do you mean 'an army'? When? How?"

Sandeep suddenly looked much older than a man his age. "He released the colonists, Dr. McCoy. We're outnumbered, exhausted, unwell, and practically defenseless. So, sir, I do think I'm justified in saying this night might be our last." Sandeep took a step backwards through the open door of the laboratory, settling a hand on his phaser. "Giotto wants you at the front line, but you don't have to come. We all know the priority is to save the captain."

"It's important to save all of you," Leonard countered, moving to join him. "I have time to spare. Let's go."

To himself, he thought grimly, _Damn you, Tappan._

It would be pointless now to find a viable treatment. They would die at the hands of a mob long before the infection killed them.

* * *

John stood immobile at the fork in the corridor, arms crossed and stance wide. Impassively, he watched Mr. Spock stride from the control room, Olivares on his heels. From the opposite direction, through the ward, came McCoy and Sandeep.

Spock and McCoy halted when they saw each other. Something passed silently between them. Then, side by side, they came to him.

How many times he had seen them approach Captain Kirk in the same way, almost shoulder to shoulder, ready to stand with or against Kirk as they saw fit? And what did Kirk think of, feel, when he saw them coming?

It had to be respect, tinged with admiration. That was what Giotto felt now. Only a fool didn't acknowledge how strong a team Spock and McCoy made when they united for a common cause.

He hoped it would be enough. Otherwise, they were—all of them—lost to the enemy waiting for an opportunity to destroy them.

After acknowledging each man, he said, "Commander, the Enterprise has been notified of the change in threat level. They are ready to receive your orders."

"That news is welcome, Mr. Giotto. I will contact Mr. Scott following certain deliberations. For now, the building has been secured. I estimate the two generators can sustain the shield for three hours and twenty-nine minutes. In approximately half that time, portions of the shield will begin to deteriorate in integrity. My suggestion would be that we find a way to control the routing of energy so that we are able to protect the entrances and power units until the shield fails completely."

Kolarski, who had been, listening along with Giotto's team, stepped forward. "I can help with that," he offered. "If you let me look at the generators, I might be able to rig an alternate energy feed to them—keep them running longer to support the shield."

"Lt. Joran is off life support now," McCoy added. "You can tap into the ward's power reserve if you need to. It would be on a separate grid."

Mr. Spock gave a slight nod. "Proceed as you deem necessary, Lieutenant."

Kolarski accepted the charge with a grave "Aye, sir" and left.

"I already have a feel for this building," said Giotto, "but I'd like a look at the technical schematics. In all likelihood, Tappan will hold off his attack until we're running low on power but the more I know, the better I can anticipate his next move. If he gets just one man inside this building it could compromise our defense."

Spock looked to Olivares. "The PADD."

She came forward and handed it to Giotto. "Mr. Spock downloaded the schematics for you."

For an instant McCoy's gaze touched upon each of them, seeming both sad and weary. Then he walked around their group to the main doors. Automatically, Spock followed him. Giotto decided not to, guessing that they needed to have a private conversation. Before he gave his attention to the blueprints, he ordered Olivares and Sandeep to do a security sweep of the building. It was a chance for them to do something, as it was apparent doing nothing would make them feel far worse.

He activated the screen and began to read.

* * *

By a window, Security Officer Danson acknowledged Leonard's approach without looking away from his post. Leonard patted the man's shoulder as he passed by and went to the opposite window. From there, he saw nothing but empty walkways, darkness, and stars. A pang of longing struck him as he looked at the sky.

Spock joined him and observed the same scene.

Leonard sighed and broke the silence. "Should I lift the quarantine?"

"You understand the risks of such an action better than I do, Doctor."

"I can't lift it," he concluded, already knowing that answer but not wanting to have stated it so baldly to begin with. Still, to voice it, made him feel awful.

Spock continued to stargaze. "There could be no other choice."

"Despite that I just condemned us to die?"

"The needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few or the one."

Leonard harrumphed softly. "Sounds like something you would say."

Spock lifted an eyebrow as he looked to Leonard. "I did say it."

Leonard met the Vulcan's gaze. "Have I told you lately what a menace you are?"

"Forty-one minutes and seven seconds ago, to be precise."

"At least you're a menace I can stand." He tilted his head in the direction of the grounds beyond the facility. "What's out there is far worse."

"Your point?"

"Tappan is unconscionable. He's proved that beyond a doubt. Do you really think he will wait patiently until our shields give out? I don't. I think you should be prepared for his tricks. If he tries to lure us out, if he tries to negotiate with you, promise me that you won't do what he wants."

"Because, in the end," Spock finished softly, "what he wants is Jim."

Leonard nodded. "We wouldn't be in this situation otherwise. Jim is more valuable to him alive than dead."

"I wish I had more clarity on that point," the Vulcan admitted.

Leonard fell silent, took a quick look around them. Then he touched Spock's arm as warning of his intention before he stepped in until they were nearly chest to chest. Spock's placid expression never changed but his gaze sharpened.

" _Tarsus_ ," Leonard said quietly.

The Vulcan's stare intensified.

"It has to do with Tarsus IV—which only you and I know is of significant connection to our captain."

"You must explain."

"The rotting grain isn't a fluke, Spock. There's evidence that contaminant comes from Tarsus IV." Leonard knew he didn't have to say more than that. He moved out of Spock's personal space, then, to wait in silence while Spock came to his conclusions.

"I do not normally indulge in conspiracy theories, Dr. McCoy, but even a theory contains some facts. If the intent is to exploit Captain Kirk based on his past, to what purpose?"

"I haven't had time to think of those answers."

"Then I shall do so for the both of us, for we must have a plausible explanation to consider the matter any further."

"That's a logical answer, Spock. I expected nothing less of you." Leonard rubbed at his collarbone. "I meant to tell you this development earlier but I lost myself in my work. I'm sorry."

"Eventually you must give up your bad habit, Doctor. Has the Captain not discussed this with you?"

Leonard offered Spock a dry smile. "I have plenty of bad habits. Apologizing is hardly the worst, and Jim knows it."

"Then I should undertake the task."

Coming from Spock, that almost sounded warm. The Vulcan was certainly being strange again. Leonard had yet to figure out why.

"I think this notion of 'imminent demise' is finally affecting you, Mr. Spock."

"You affect me, Leonard, in ways which I am only beginning to understand."

Leonard swallowed whatever teasing remark he had been planning to say next. Then he noticed that Danson was looking at them like he had never seen them before. The lieutenant was muttering, " _Holy mackerel he was right!_ "

Leonard grabbed Spock's arm, intending to drag him away before anything else embarrassing happened, but just then Danson glanced out the window, stiffened, and cried, "Mr. Giotto! I have a visual!"

Stomach plummeting, Leonard turned to look.

The darkness was moving, writhing, slowly shaping into human-like forms. The first man to become visible was in the lead. His eyeglasses reflected light. It was Augustus Tappan.

Spock drew Leonard back from the window with the order, "Return to the lab."

Leonard drew his tongue across his bottom lip nervously and shook his head. "I should stay, Spock."

"Negative," the commander insisted. "I will join you there later if I can." Spock paused, then, and tilted his head ever-so-slightly in a meaningful way before he said, "If there is a way to return the Captain to us, even for a brief period, it would be of great help."

Leonard understood. Spock wanted Jim awake and aware for a purpose he didn't want to disclose, and he depended on McCoy to make it happen.

Time was running out, Leonard thought, but he would try anyway. "I'll do what I can," he said and returned to the depths of the building.

* * *

The claim preceding the man into the Ready Room was "Reconnaissance was a success, sir."

Scotty brought his conversation with Uhura to a halt and turned towards the newcomer. "Mr. Sulu, it sounds like you've brought us good news."

Sulu approached the desk were the engineer and the communications officer were already seated and propped a hip against its edge. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Mr. Spock was on point with his targets. We're fairly certain of the three we identified the right one."

Uhura looked at Scotty. "Monty, you didn't let Chekov go along, did you?"

Sulu smirked. "Mr. Scott knows investigations work best with one good cop and one bad cop. Chekov likes to play bad cop."

Scotty groaned. "You're supposed to restrain him, lad! If we have to explain another incident like with the Klingons to the Capt'n, he'll be in a tizzy!"

Sulu lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "The target tried to run. Chekov had to punch him."

Scotty groaned again.

"If it's any consolation, Pavel's bark is usually worse than his bite. When I left, he was explaining in gory detail what happens to traitors in Russia. The idiot looked like he had a weak stomach. He'll crack."

As if on cue, the desk intercom came to life. " _Ze prisoner has confessed!_ "

Sulu congratulated Chekov, "Good work, partner!"

"Oh dear," commented Uhura when they heard crying in the background. "I'll tell Chapel to put together some sedative packets."

" _He iz baby_ ," Chekov complained. " _I did nothing painful._ "

"Or permanent?" Scotty questioned hopefully.

" _Veeell_..."

"Never mind, laddie," the engineer decided, remembering his own claim that ignorance was bliss. "What did he say?"

Chekov's tone sobered. " _Hiz orders were from ze Admiral as suspected, sir, but he never met with ze Ambassador. He vas to report on her movements and on ze Keptin's._ "

"So no level of trust there," Sulu remarked.

"Not with Leta," Scotty agreed, "which means she was ordered to take Kirk planet-side but not necessarily trusted to do as she was told, or someone else was communicating with her and the Admiral is unknown to her."

"A patsy?" Uhura suggested.

"Could be."

" _There's more,_ " said Chekov. " _All ze Keptin's orders from ze planet vere to be reported immediately._ "

Sulu wanted to know, "Did he give any specifics what the Admiral was looking for?"

" _He vas told specifically to report 'any orders made by Kirk which are against law and order and against mankind._ '" Sounding angered, Chekov added, " _Ze Admiral claimed our keptin vas a bad man!_ "

"Bollocks!" cried Scotty, unable to help himself.

Sulu's mouth became a thin line.

"Something against mankind," a disturbed Uhura echoed. "I don't like this. If the 'Fleet wants revoke Kirk's captaincy, there are far less convoluted ways to go about it. What if," she said, "this isn't about Kirk at all? He's a pawn like Leta. As such, he is being used to create a set of events which otherwise wouldn't happen."

" _For whose gain?_ " Chekov wanted to know.

"Yes, that's the sticking point," she mused. "If the Captain acts against 'mankind', which I take to mean Tassos III, they become the victims and we, Starfleet, their aggressors."

"Command would do everything in their power to insulate themselves against blame," Sulu pointed out.

"By laying the blame on Kirk as someone unfit for duty." Scotty snapped his fingers. "Wait, that's it! Who would be responsible?" At his companions' blank looks, he explained, "There was some talk about why Leta would need to represent Starfleet on a sponsor-owned colony. Say there _is_ a deal in the works between the sponsor and Starfleet, so we're sent out to engage the colony with their sanction, except in the end we damage the colony—or nearly damage it, whether by blunder or malicious intent. Who takes responsibility for that?"

Sulu's face lit up. "We do but, more importantly, so does the sponsor. Tassos III has the makings of a case against them."

"A petition for independence," concluded Uhura. "Any court would rule in the best interest of the colonists if there is sufficient evidence of abuse of trust or privileges by the corporation who, according to law, should be supporting them. What a clever plan!"

She and the two men looked at one another.

" _I think ze plan sounds insane._ "

Sulu sighed. "Pavel has a point. The part I really don't understand is why anyone pick Captain Kirk. Of the 'Fleet's captains, he is one of our most upstanding. He isn't going to endanger the lives of the people of Tassos III, much less try to cause them harm to the point that the Federation has to place them in a non-interference zone."

Scotty sighed softly. "Everyone has a breaking point, Sulu."

" _But ze Keptin..._ "

The Chief of Engineering shook his head. "I'll nae disagree that Jim Kirk is a fine captain, but he's human like the rest of us. He can make mistakes, and we've all seen the ghosts that haunt 'im."

Sulu said firmly, "I would still rather serve under Kirk than anyone else."

"We all would. That's why we take our duty seriously to help him make the right choices for ship and crew."

"And for every life which we are bound to protect," Uhura added. She clasped her hands in front of her. "I wish I could help him now."

Scotty clucked and draped an arm over her shoulders. "You're helping plenty, lass. Besides, the Capt'n isn't alone."

Sulu agreed, "He isn't alone. Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy are watching over him."

" _Mr. Spock would never let anyone use our keptin!_ " claimed Spock's protégée.

Those in the Ready Room all nodded in unison, for it was a fact that no one cared for Jim Kirk more than the two officers who went in search of him.

Scotty lifted his arm away from Uhura. To her, he said, "I'd like to talk to the Commander." Then to Sulu and Chekov, "In the meantime, you lads make certain our rat doesn't jump ship."

Over the comm, Chekov chuckled darkly. " _I can do zat._ "

* * *

Leonard's hands shook with excitement as he transferred the culture from the analyzer to the microscope. He had to see with his own eyes that the bacteria on the slide was inert. Once he did, he backed away from the counter, took several deep breaths, and broke into a grin. What had been created wasn't a cure by far—"But by god it will do the job!" Leonard finished aloud. Now he just had to make certain it worked inside the human body like it did through simulation.

Leonard was busy putting together a hypospray when Spock arrived.

"I think I found something," he began, his tone still buzzing with excitement. Holding aloft a small glass bottle, he explained, "This will neutralize the contagion, which should the immune system a chance to build up its own antibodies." Leonard grinned broadly. "And all thanks to you!"

Spock came forward, asking gravely, "Why thank me when you created the solution, Doctor?"

"Why, you inspire me, Mr. Spock." Leonard's blue eyes twinkled. "Or at least your hardy Vulcan genetics do. I had the thought: if only the human body could be as aggressive as a Vulcan's, we would have stopped this nasty infection in its tracks! So I did," he concluded. "Now I have to test it to know for certain."

Spock's gaze dropped to the hypospray in Leonard's hand. "I would assume you have an appropriate test subject—"

"Of course!"

"—which is not yourself."

Leonard lost his grin. "I'm not trying out an untested treatment on one of my patients, Spock."

"You are one of your patients," pointed out the Vulcan.

"Don't be absurd!" Leonard returned to preparing the hypo. "I'll take this, and I'll be as good as new. Then it's a simple matter of replicating the serum."

Spock plucked the hypospray out of his hand.

Leonard gaped for a moment, then launched himself across the counter.

The Vulcan glided smoothly out of reach, saying as he went, "Your emotions blind you to reason, Dr. McCoy. The one individual whom this team _cannot_ afford to lose is you."

Leonard chased after him. "Give me back that hypo, you blasted hobgoblin!"

"I will find a suitable test subject."

"Like hell you will!"

Spock left the lab anyway.

With a curse, Leonard grabbed his tricorder, looked wistfully at a few cartridges of sedative which he would love to pump into his Vulcan commander but couldn't, and left the lab at a run.

Spock was, apparently, quite quick on his feet when he needed to be. By the time Leonard caught up to Spock, the Vulcan was already among the patients petitioning for volunteers.

"I'm a volunteer!" Leonard snarled, stalking up to him.

Spock ignored him. "Dr. McCoy has synthesized what he believes to be a successful treatment of the spreading infection. Unfortunately I must ask one of you to take it, as the treatment is viable only for a human."

Sandeep, who had returned to the ward to check on patients for the time being, stepped away from a biobed. "I'll do it."

The patient in the biobed raised himself up on his elbows. "Better let me," he croaked. "I'm already down for the count."

Joran raised a hand. "How about me?"

"You're not even infected, Lieutenant!" Leonard snapped. "Lie back down, both of you!"

Spock approached the first bed-ridden lieutenant.

Leonard tried to block his path. "This is going too far, Mr. Spock!"

"On the contrary, Doctor, I believe it is mutiny."

Spock handed the hypospray to Sandeep, who in turn injected its content into the volunteer's outstretched arm.

Leonard experienced a few, very indecisive seconds of rage. In the end, he desire to rip into Spock for running roughshod over his authority didn't outweigh his duty to care for his patient. He went to the side of the biobed and ran a full body scan over the fool who had taken his concoction.

"It should be thirty minutes, more or less, before you feel any effects," he said unhappily. "Sandeep, from this moment forward, don't take your eyes off this man."

"But, sir..."

"I don't care if we have zombies climbing the walls!" Leonard barked. "That's an order!"

"Yes, Dr. McCoy," Sandeep agreed meekly.

Leonard turned on Spock. "I have some words for you."

"They will have to wait," Spock replied in a calm tone. "What is it, Lt. Olivares?"

The woman, whom none of them had noticed enter the ward during the 'mutinous' event, spoke very formally, as though afraid of drawing Leonard's attention (and therefore his temper) upon herself. "Mr. Spock, Mr. Giotto would like to see you."

Spock walked away without a word.

Leonard gripped his tricorder hard so he didn't give into the urge to throw it after the Vulcan. "Joran!" he snapped, catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, "I told you to stay in that bed!"

"Sir, I'm feeling much better. I should return to duty."

"That phaser blast must of fried your common sense! I'm the doctor around here! You're better when I say you're better!"

Joran drew the bedcovers back up to his chest and didn't offer a protest. Olivares hustled forward, sat on the edge of Joran's bed, and leaned over to whisper something to him. After a few seconds, the man nodded.

She stood up. "Lieutenant Joran will not leave the ward, Dr. McCoy."

These damn kids were making Leonard's headache worse. He returned his attention to the patient with a counteragent running through his veins, scanned him again and, frustrated to have no immediate results, went to visit the only two patients who couldn't give him any trouble. He checked Walken's vitals before dismissing him. With Leta's son, he lingered a while longer, refreshing his tricorder with new data from the cortical monitor.

Then Leonard went to see Jim. His anger faded as he tucked an extra blanket around his captain.

"There's no one to sit with you, Jim-boy," the doctor murmured sadly. "Things have gone quite pear-shaped, haven't they? I wish I had made more of a fuss about you leaving with Leta. If I had, you wouldn't be like this." With gentleness he touched the side of Kirk's face. "You wouldn't have suffered this way. I'm sorry."

To Leonard's surprise, Jim turned his face into his hand and exhaled deeply.

"Are you dreaming?" Leonard wondered. "I hope they're good dreams."

The scrape of a boot against the floor broke the moment and made Leonard look up.

"When did you get back?"

"Mr. Giotto had a simple request. I—forgive me, I did not mean to interrupt."

"Nothing to interrupt," Leonard said, moving away from Jim's bed.

Spock watched him approach the doorway but did not move aside.

Leonard returned his stare.

"Will you wake him?" Spock asked.

"Is that a request?"

"A necessity."

"Tell me why."

"Mr. Scott contacted me not long ago."

It seemed Spock was changing the subject but Leonard didn't say anything, just listened.

"He has new information which indicates Jim's actions on this planet are under intense scrutiny. It could be that he is the key player in creating an opportunity for Tassos III to make a bid for independence."

"We knew Jim was part of someone's master plan, but is that the crux of it? Independence? I thought Jim said Tappan wanted him to order the destruction of this colony."

"Consider this, Doctor: the possibility of what might have occurred is often more frightening than what has occurred," Spock said. "If Starfleet did not prevent—or nearly so—another genocide like Tarsus IV, it could create severe unrest in those of the Federation who look to this organization for protection. With such leverage and the damage it could do morally as well as politically, who would dare deny Tassos III what it wants?"

Rubbing a hand against his forehead, Leonard said, "I see your point, Spock. Frankly it lines up too well with the fact that Jim is the by-product of that kind of trauma. It's been said that people sometimes become the thing they hate most. In a trial, even Jim would doubt himself if he had given an order as terrible as Kodos'. He would beg us to lock him up." Leonard sighed. "That said, is it wise to wake him up?"

"Even should we fail to protect him, Doctor, the worst crime would be to leave him in ignorance."

Something came back, niggled at Leonard, and so he eyed the Vulcan. "But you asked me to do this before you had your talk with Scotty."

Spock shifted his weight slightly. "I admit, there is an additional reason I wish to speak to Jim."

"And that reason is?"

Spock said, after a long silence, "We could use a diversion to escape."

Leonard almost didn't understand—until suddenly he did. He exploded, almost literally, and pinned Spock to the wall.

" _Doctor_ ," gasped Spock.

Leonard braced a forearm against Spock's chest. "Why you, you heartless, cold-blooded—I don't even have a name horrible enough for you! How dare you think you have the right to sacrifice Jim to a monster!"

"You misunderstand—"

"Over my dead body, Spock! I'll never let you!"

"I was not suggesting we use the Captain to distract Tappan," Spock countered, a shade of anger coloring his voice. "You gave me no chance to explain."

"Oh, I know how your blasted logic works."

"Obviously you do not." Spock ordered, "Release me."

After a long minute, Leonard backed off. They studied each other in cold silence.

Finally Spock said, "You have become incapable of impartiality where the Captain is concerned, Dr. McCoy. Until this moment, I made an allowance for your behavior because it did not hinder my ability to command."

"So what? Keep my mouth shut and let you make a decision that could destroy a man?"

"I do make the decisions on this mission, whether you have faith in those decisions or not," Spock said. "Wake up the Captain, Doctor. Time is of the essence."

Leonard said nothing. He turned around and left the private exam room.

"Doctor!" Spock called after him.

 _Never_ , Leonard thought. _Jim, I'll protect you if it's the last thing I do._

But why, he wondered, did it hurt his heart to walk away from Spock?

* * *

"Augustus, it's dark. Why are we out here?"

"Patience, love." Tappan pointed to the glowing building ahead of them. "Therein lies our salvation."

Karen reminded him, "Ramses must come to no harm."

"Of course not."

"And you'll save the doctor?"

Tappan frowned. "We can find other doctors to treat our son. In fact, in a matter of days, we will have dozens of them flocking to us."

"But everyone knows Dr. McCoy is the best practitioner in frontier medicine. He'll cure Ram, I'm sure of it. We just have to bring him around to our side."

The man next to Karen gave a soft laugh. "Do you think any of Kirk's crew can be bought?"

"Then force him!" she snapped. "I don't care how, but I will have him for my son!"

"Our son," Tappan corrected, frowning again.

Karen followed his gaze. "What is it?"

"One of my men," Tappan said absently, "was supposed to sabotage the power system. I suppose he didn't have the chance. The shields are up."

"Oh, this waiting is giving me a headache," the woman complained. "I'm going back."

"As you wish. I will send a messenger to you once we have Kirk."

Karen started to walk away, but Tappan called to her a moment later.

"Be careful of who you offend, my dear. As you can see, no one is in a particularly friendly mood this evening."

Karen shuddered at the reminder. She was well-aware of how dangerous it would be to make eye contact with any of the colonists roaming around. There was, after all, somewhat of a premonition of murder in the air.


	13. Part Thirteen

**Be prepared. Feelings.**

* * *

Two officers relocated to a quiet corner of the patient ward. A soft sigh preceded the question, "Are we back where we started?"

"We can't be," Sandeep argued, although his gut told him otherwise as the frigid silence between Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy grew to frightening proportions. They refused to make eye contact with each other.

"We need Kirk," his companion said, worry in her eyes. "This team is falling apart without him."

Sandeep agreed. It wasn't simply that Spock and McCoy couldn't keep it together. Captain Kirk had a way of dragging his crew out of dire situations which no one could quite match. He would think up a solution that utilized everyone's talents and gave them a fighting chance. With the death literally upon their doorstep this time, the one thing that their team needed most was hope.

Which meant they needed Jim Kirk.

"I don't want it to sound like I am okay with placing our captain's life in more danger than it's already in," Olivares began to explain when Sandeep failed to respond to her assessment.

"It's all right," he assured her quickly. "I understand what you mean. We do need him."

She looked at him, graver than ever. "Do you think the Boss would agree?"

"We should ask," Sandeep decided.

"And take our stand accordingly," the woman finished. "Follow me."

The pair slipped away from the ward, unnoticed.

* * *

"How do you feel?"

"Better," stated the lieutenant, watching the doctor take his pulse with curiosity. "Doesn't your tricorder do that?"

"A man can't always rely on machines," Leonard replied. "You feel better, Lieutenant, because you _are_ better."

The man's face lit up. "Really?"

He gave a slow nod. "See for yourself." Drawing aside the bed sheet, he removed a lightly wrapped bandage and indicated the man's right side.

The patient's prods to the lightly discolored area were tentative but his response was ecstatic. "The rash is gone!"

"Not quite but getting there." Leonard noted, "Your blood pressure is back to normal, and your body temperature has stabilized." He scrutinized the man sharply. "You still have a headache, though."

The officer nodded. "The headache does seem worse."

Leonard marked a line on PADD before he said, "It's likely a side-effect of the serum. I would give you something for the pain, but I'm hesitant to risk the good results we have seen so far. Do you think you can you stand it a while longer?"

"Whatever you believe is best, Doc. As long as I'm not going to die on this hellish planet."

"You're not," Leonard said firmly. "Rest a minute. I'll be right back."

When he turned for the opposite side of the room, Spock stepped into his path.

Leonard's hand tightened around his tricorder. "What?"

"Was the treatment successful?"

"It seems so."

Spock studied briefly. "I could assist in replicating the serum."

"Don't bother." The retort came out harsher than Leonard intended. He swallowed down some of his anger. "I can do that much by myself, Mr. Spock. Stay where you're needed."

When Spock settled back into silence, Leonard pressed his mouth flat and skirted around the Vulcan. But he didn't get far before his name was called and, instinctually, he stiffened.

"I will not revoke my order," the Vulcan reminded him. "I hope you come to your senses before it is too late."

 _Damn you,_ thought Leonard. He left the ward without reply.

* * *

Lt. Danson had seen many of his fellow crewmen take pleasure in their work. Normally he found his security duties tolerable, but it had taken this particular adventure to make him realize he was in the wrong job. There was pride in being the protectors of the ship, to be sure, and there was some excitement that came along with the danger of an away mission.

However, that didn't mean he had no qualms about dangerous work. In fact, his taste for adventure (which had initially set him on this career track) had pretty much waned in last few months. Being where he was now, at the very forefront of possibly the most dangerous mission he had undertaken, he resolved that he would give up the red shirt when he returned to the Enterprise.

If he returned, that was. Thinking of his future-to-be once the facility shields failed scared the hell out of him. He could be brave in a group. By himself, he was a coward.

So deeply ensconced in his thoughts was he, the hand that landed on his shoulder made him jump straight into the air.

"It's just us," Blanca told him.

Danson laughed nervously. "I knew you were there."

Sandeep and Olivares rolled their eyes at him. Then they crowded him against the window.

"We have a situation," Sandeep told him in a hushed tone.

Then they explained it to him.

Danson's eyes bugged out. "What do you mean, they're fighting again? I just saw them—" Noticing just how intently Sandeep and Olivares were listening, he floundered. "—uh, saw them acting very cordial with one another."

Olivares snorted but Sandeep's face lit up.

"You saw it, didn't you? They had that _look_."

Blanca cut her eyes towards Giotto and nudged Sandeep with her elbow. "Now's not the time to discuss any _looks_."

"But I was right! He knows—!"

This time the elbow went into Sandeep's stomach, hard. Sandeep doubled over with a gasp.

Giotto called out sharply to their little group, "What are you three doing over there?"

"Nothing, sir," the woman answered cheerily.

Danson took pity on Sandeep. "It's all right, man. I should have believed you. I just find it difficult to imagine that anybody who looks that cozy together suddenly decide they can't stand the sight of each other."

"Married couples do it all the time," Sandeep replied and, with a grin, dodged Olivares' swat at his head. "Blanca has a point, though. This discussion can happen later." He sobered then. "We want your opinion before we talk to Giotto. Do you think we need Captain Kirk?"

Danson rubbed a hand down his face. "Isn't that going to cause more problems?"

"It's Kirk," Blanca said.

"Point taken." Danson frowned, then sighed. "My instinct says yes. My brain tells me guilt would eat me alive if something bad happened to him. I mean, he _is_ the captain. Protecting the captain of the ship is our first priority."

Olivares gave him an understanding look. "Honestly, I'm afraid of what happens if we all die. Who would be left to protect him then? Isn't that as bad as having him with us at the frontline?"

"He would rather be at the frontline," Sandeep stated with firm belief. "Give him the choice, and that is what he would say."

They all nodded.

"Kirk is a man who doesn't believe in asking others to take a risk that he wouldn't take himself."

Danson nearly jumped out of his skin. When he spun around, he squeaked, "Sir!"

Giotto observed them without expression. "Just giving my two cents."

Olivares flushed. "Boss, we were going to ask if you..."

"If I want Kirk by my side at the gates of Hell?" Giotto's smile was mirthless. "Let me offer you a piece of advice, Lieutenants."

Immediately Giotto's team stood at attention.

"You don't protect a man by standing in front of him. You protect him by standing alongside him and respecting his choices. I didn't expect to live out this five-year voyage yet here I am. I know I wouldn't have made it this far if I hadn't trusted my commander."

Danson saw that Olivares' and Sandeep's eyes shone. He was fairly certain that his eyes shone too. Giotto always managed to remind him that his work had value. "Then what next, sir?" he asked respectfully.

Giotto adopted a slight grimace. "Dr. McCoy will be opposed, so someone informs him that he has been outvoted."

Sandeep's hand flew up. "Not it!"

Olivares widened her eyes, attempting to appear innocent. "You are the superior among us, sir."

Danson wisely kept his mouth shut.

Giotto did grimace in full this time and pivoted away on his heel. His charges trailed behind him, completely unrepentant to be out of the direct line of fire.

* * *

" _...crazy...can't do it...cold-blooded son of a..._ "

When Leonard caught himself mumbling as he methodically operated various pieces of medical equipment, he pressed his hands to his face. The ring on his pinky ringer was a bite of cold against his warm skin.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked himself.

Did Spock hate him?

"Get it together."

Would Spock forgive him?

" _Stop it._ "

As he pulled his hands from his face, the room took a spin. He latched onto the edge of the counter top and waited out the bout of vertigo. When the objects in the room finally settled back where they belonged, he found a stool and shakily sat down.

Running the tricorder over himself told him a lot of things he already knew and some things he didn't. The stimulant had petered out at last. His stress levels were through the roof. Unfortunately the Vulcan had been right. He was closer to having a heart attack than he liked.

The treatment batch needed to be finished. He had to contact M'Benga. He had to find a stabilizer for Kirk and Leta's son. He had to stop Tappan from hurting them, from using Jim. The list was endless.

Sweat ran down McCoy's face. He moped at it with his forearm and slid away from the stool—and in the next instant met with the floor.

Leonard's head cleared enough for him to realize that he had momentarily passed out. He rolled onto his back and began a count of sixty. Once he felt his blood pressure was stable, he slowly sat up and leaned against the side of the lab counter. Not until he reached for his tricorder did Leonard discover it had broken during his fall. Pieces of it lay beyond reach.

Swallowing hard, he pulled his tunic away from his skin and looked down. His suspicion proved correct. The rash had spread halfway down his chest. "Oh hell. Looks like you're getting the first dose, Leonard."

On his second try he managed to get to his feet. It was fortuitous timing; the travel-size replicator beamed down from the Enterprise gave a loud ding. The cartridges were ready for transfer.

The doctor was loading hyposprays when the lab door opened and several people came through it in single file.

Leonard jumped to his feet, questioning apprehensively, "What's happened?"

"Doctor..." Spock began.

Giotto stepped forward. "Dr. McCoy, there has been unanimous agreement. We need Captain Kirk."

Leonard flashed hot and cold at the same time. The hypospray in his hand slid from his fingers and rolled across the counter. "I am the Chief Medical Officer. On whose authority are you challenging me?"

Spock came towards him but paused when something crunched underfoot. He bent down.

"This isn't a challenge of your authority," Giotto said. "This is a request. A plea, if you will."

Lieutenant Olivares lent her voice to the argument. "The Captain would want to help us."

Leonard slammed a fist down on the counter, rattling a tray of microscope slides. "Except he's in no condition to do so! My god, has every last one of you gone out of your mind? Am I the only sane person left on this planet?"

"What happened to your face?"

The question was so abrupt, so off-topic, that Leonard turned and stared dumbly at Spock for the longest time.

"Your face is bruised," Spock remarked. Then he held out a piece of the broken tricorder. ""You tend to be very careful with medical equipment, yet I discover that some of it has been damaged. I will ask again, Doctor: what, precisely, happened to you?"

That Spock already knew the answer was obvious.

Leonard was afraid to find out how Spock planned to use the knowledge against him but it was habit to challenge him. "What's your point, Mr. Spock?"

The Vulcan's eyes darkened. He moved towards Leonard, softening his tone as he drew closer. "How is your health? Are you experiencing weakness? Disorientation?"

"None of us feel our best." Leonard stiffened as Spock came within arm's reach. "It doesn't mean I can't do my job."

Spock reached out and Leonard almost drew back, but the Vulcan only picked up the hypospray that had rolled to the counter's edge.

"It means precisely that if you are medically unfit," Spock replied gravely. "Dr. McCoy, effective immediately you are relieved of duty."

Leonard blanched. The room went fuzzy grey at the edges. He didn't realize he had stumbled back until Spock moved to catch him. No one else attempted to intervene.

"You bastard," he whispered, but it was oddly difficult to shake the impression that, as the Vulcan stared down at him, Spock was as deeply unhappy as he was.

Spock backed away from him again. "You give me no choice."

Leonard's throat grew tight with emotion. His distress must have shown in his face, for Spock seemed even unhappier.

"The sedation drip will be removed," he told Leonard, "at which time I will assess the Captain's state of mind."

"Good luck with that," Leonard managed to say, every word bitter. He turned to the others standing across the room and snapped, "Congratulations, y'all won. Now get the hell out of here."

The lieutenants looked stricken at the cold dismissal. Giotto rumbled in an apologetic voice, "We will prove to you it's for the best, Dr. McCoy." He ushered his team out of the lab. Spock stayed behind.

Leonard couldn't look at the Vulcan, not with the feeling of betrayal burning him up from the inside out, so he went for his communicator and the single phaser which Spock had insisted he keep near him at all times after Leta's attack and tossed both devices to the counter. "You'll want these back."

"Doctor."

"How proud you must be, Mr. Spock. You stripped me of my medical authority. You turned me into a fool in front of our peers."

"I took no pride or pleasure in relieving you of duty. It was a necessary course of action."

Leonard spun around, his blue eyes fiercely alight. "I don't believe you, Spock. Tell me, just how far are you planning to take this? Are you going to tie my hands, too, so I have to watch my patients go untreated?"

The skin around Spock's eyes became taut. "Leonard."

"No," he cried angrily, "don't call me that! Using my first name is a privilege, not a right—one you don't deserve!"

Spock closed some of the physical distance between them but they were more like strangers now than friends and that type of distance he could not breach. He didn't argue his case. He simply lifted his closed hand and opened it.

Leonard looked at the hypospray being offered to him.

"This is the treatment for the infection, correct?" Spock asked.

"Yes."

"Take it," the Vulcan insisted, placing the hypo carefully onto the counter next to the communicator and phaser, neither of which he took in exchange.

Leonard was still feeling mean when he said, "If I do, you won't have a reason to deny my request for reinstatement."

But Spock only replied, "I am counting on that request, Dr. McCoy."

Then he left Leonard alone.

The laboratory fell silent after that, giving the tangle of thoughts in Leonard's head time to separate themselves into sense. He came to a conclusion that he couldn't deny, one which surprised him: Spock had never intended to take him away from his work or his patients. He would return Kirk's care over to Leonard again the moment the doctor's health showed signs of improvement. It was only that Spock needed a short period of time in which to remove Jim from sedation without causing a full-on fight between them and without completely breaking a trust they could never mend. In addition to that, if things went south, if something awful happened because Kirk had been awakened, Leonard could not be held liable for it. The responsibility landed squarely on Spock's shoulders.

Spock was, as always, working diligently to preserve both of their professional reputations by that subtle manipulation of regulation at which he excelled. He was also trying to prove that Leonard's personal feelings did matter, however impersonal the actions taken seemed. Spock would not, and perhaps never could, stand between Leonard and his heart.

Leonard was still angry but now he understood. He depressed the hypospray into the side of his neck. Spock would have this time to try things his way and then, the doctor decided, he would take charge again.

* * *

"Return to your stations," Mr. Spock ordered the officers in the ward. To Giotto, the Vulcan inclined his head with a different command.

John followed him to Kirk's room. "Do you know what to do?" he asked as Spock circled to the opposite side of the biobed.

"I have studied many medical texts over years," the commander replied, "though I rarely have the opportunity to put my knowledge to use."

"Generally speaking, sir, medical practice is best left to the professionals."

"I fully agree, Mr. Giotto. My interests in medical science do not coincide with a desire to practice it."

John certainly couldn't picture Mr. Spock as a doctor, especially not a hands-on doctor like McCoy. He made no further comment and watched in silence as Spock operated the monitor above Kirk's bed. After a minute or so, the Vulcan stepped back.

"It should take several minutes for the Captain to rouse." Spock turned and stared hard at Giotto. "Are you prepared?"

He was. Placing a hand on the phaser at his side, he asked bluntly, "How much force can I use?"

The grave answer was "Heavy stun, if necessary."

Giotto positioned himself across the room where Kirk could see him but not reach him or his phaser easily. The door had been locked by Giotto's voice command so that the Captain wouldn't be able to escape in the event he disarmed both men.

John truly hoped that Mr. Spock could revive the man they both knew as Jim Kirk.

The wait seemed endless, but at last Kirk began to groan and stir in the bed. Giotto watched as Spock lowered himself to the bed's edge and placed his hands on Kirk's shoulders. It wasn't a moment too soon.

Kirk's eyes opened. He croaked sleepily, "...Spock?"

"Captain," Spock greeted him.

Kirk frowned and lifted a hand to touch a place near the underside of his skull where McCoy had attached a medical device. Giotto saw Spock press down slightly on Kirk's shoulders as though he knew what would happen next.

Then, like a switch had been flipped, their captain's eyes glazed over and his body tensed.

"Mr. Spock," the man said in a different tone, "what is the meaning of this?"

"Captain," Spock began, only to correct himself. "Jim..."

Kirk's hand flew to the Vulcan's wrists, gripped them hard. Spock's expression didn't change, nor did he budge.

"Get off me, you traitorous dog!"

"Jim, you are under the influence of a drug which is preventing you from thinking clearly. You must fight it."

The only thing the man in the bed wanted to fight, Giotto concluded, was them.

Kirk bucked upwards. "I'll have you court-martialed! Mr. Giotto, shoot this traitor!"

"Negative, sir," John replied.

Kirk's eyes rounded at the refusal. Then he snarled at both of them, "Mutiny! I'll have your careers—your heads! I'll kill all of you!" He was fighting Spock in earnest now but was no match for the Vulcan's strength.

Giotto swore then and there never tell another soul the vile things Kirk which spewed at them. He wanted this ugly confrontation to be over, wanted his captain back. "Mr. Spock, if you plan to do something, I can't think of a better time."

Spock easily twisted one of his wrists out of Kirk's grip and splayed a hand against the side of the man's face. "Jim, forgive me. My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts—"

"I don't consent!" Kirk screamed over and over again.

"—our minds are merging, our minds are one."

Suddenly Kirk went limp mid-scream, like a stage puppet with its strings cut. His eyes rolled up into his head.

Giotto felt sick but it was impossible to tear his eyes away from the scene. Eerie silence settled over the room. The longer it went on, the more John began to sweat. Doubt crept in.

Then Kirk twitched, sighed under Spock's hand, and seemed to sag further down into the bed. His eyes weren't open but he spoke, sounding strangely sad. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "The control—it is no longer mine. I cannot function."

It startled Giotto to hear Kirk and Spock talk in unison, their voices separate but their minds obviously intertwined. It wasn't clear which of them was sorry. Maybe it was both, the way they felt mirrored in each other.

"...Must go on," continued Kirk and Spock. "Danger. Return safely to the ship. Trust crew to fight."

Could Spock explain to Kirk that they couldn't return to the Enterprise? How did the mind meld work? Giotto had the strong sense he was not the right person to be in the room, watching this, worrying about the two men with their minds locked so tightly together.

"Concern? McCoy. Yes. Understand, understand," Kirk and Spock repeated. Then, "Let me help. How?"

Yes, John wondered, how? Who was helping whom? He didn't realize he was leaning forward in anticipation of the answers.

Nothing else happened verbally. Kirk's eyes opened, and Spock stirred. Their gazes stayed locked until, at last, Spock pulled his hand away from Kirk's face.

Giotto raised his phaser in case Kirk lashed out. To his surprise, the man on the bed turned his head in Giotto's direction and looked at John with tears in his eyes.

"Help Spock," he pleaded.

Giotto started forward and caught himself, afraid of a trick. Then Kirk's hands reached up in time to catch Mr. Spock as the Vulcan suddenly slumped forward.

Giotto didn't think. He reached the bedside of his captain in the next second and lifted Mr. Spock from the bed, away from Kirk.

Spock roused enough to say in a strained voice, "No need for concern. I am well."

"Easy for you to say, Commander. Should I fetch Dr. McCoy?"

"Negative. The... weakness will pass."

Kirk sat up. He didn't look like a maniac. No maniac would appear so heartbroken. "Spock, don't do this to you."

"Negative," Spock said again, which made little sense.

"Captain, what's going on?" John had to know. "You sound..."

"Sane?" Kirk said with a small laugh that never reached his eyes. "Thank Mr. Spock—or don't. He could break his own mind in the effort to save mine."

"Negative."

It disturbed Giotto that the Vulcan hadn't bothered to stop leaning against him. It disturbed John more that Spock spoke like a broken record.

Damn, he was in over his head. He drew out his communicator with the hand not supporting his superior and flipped it open. "Giotto to McCoy. Need help. Kirk's room."

Kirk detached a cord snaking around his arm and then grimaced, a hand exploring the back of his neck. "What is this?"

No one had time to answer, for a fist suddenly pounded against the outside of the door.

John cursed, having forgotten the lockdown, and had to ease Mr. Spock against the wall, hoping like hell the Vulcan didn't buckle to the floor. Kirk was already climbing out of bed, setting off various bio-monitor alarms.

Giotto ran for the door and slapped at the control panel, saying the command code that would release the lock.

The man who shot past him was a wild-looking version of McCoy Giotto had never seen before. The doctor arrived at the other side of the room in time to catch half of the Vulcan as he tilted forward like he was going to pass out. Kirk caught the other half. Between them, they dragged Spock to the empty bed and laid him down.

McCoy was barking out questions at a rapid-fire pace.

John looked between the three of them and made an executive decision. He slipped from the room. The moment the door closed behind him, he dropped back against it and took several, unsteady breaths. He hadn't known waking Kirk would come at the cost of Spock.

But then again, had Mr. Spock deigned to inform any of them of that tiny detail, not a single person would have agreed to take the risk of such a foolhardy plan.

They were all crazy—as crazy in here as the hundreds of drugged, homicidal people waiting beyond the building walls. Now it truly was game on to find out who among them would survive.

* * *

"Bones, how is he?"

The universe had cart-wheeled and landed on its head. That was the only explanation Leonard could think of for the moronic actions of the First Officer. "Back off a minute, Jim. Let me work." _I'll get to you in a second,_ he didn't add. No time to think about the return of his lover, not until he could give Jim his full attention.

Opening the communicator that his fingers had forgotten to let go of when he dashed out of the laboratory after Giotto's abrupt distress call, Leonard called, "McCoy to Enterprise."

The response was immediate. " _We read you, Dr. McCoy._ "

"M'Benga, and hurry."

Uhura patched him without questions, no doubt recognizing how he sounded in the middle of a crisis.

"Geoff," Leonard started in the moment he heard his second-in-command's voice, "I'm transferring readings to you right now." Before M'Benga could ask whose they were, he added, "Mr. Spock collapsed after a mind meld."

Waiting for the other doctor to offer his diagnosis was excruciating. By the bed, Jim paced. To McCoy, he looked like he needed to be in a bed himself. Occasionally the man's movements became jerky, coiled with tension and anger, only for the impression of violence to recede.

"You're not in complete control," Leonard observed.

"No," Jim admitted. "Spock did—is doing—something to stave off the worst of it." He stopped pacing to stare at McCoy. "What's going through my mind, Bones... it's unforgivable. Just when I think I'm going to lose it, I have clarity again." Transferring his stare to the unconscious Vulcan, he said more softly, "He can't help me for long. I think it will kill him."

" _I can confirm that, Captain,_ " came M'Benga's voice over the unit. " _Vulcans shield their minds because it is where they are most vulnerable. They are born with the natural inclination is to absorb and process emotions and thoughts through an extrasensory pathway in the brain. It's only over time, with practice and control—as well as through hard-won evolution—that they cultivated another way to receive this information._ "

"Touch telepathy," Leonard said.

" _Yes. It lessens the risk of attack. Mr. Spock is one of the strongest telepaths I have had the pleasure to meet, part of the reason being that his genetics are not purely Vulcan. He struggled notably during childhood to gain control of his ability and was not entirely successful in binding the pathway solely to touch perception._ "

Jim and Leonard exchanged a look. Leonard would definitely have to find out later where M'Benga had acquired this confidential medical background on Spock.

" _You can appreciate what this means, Dr. McCoy, Captain._ "

"Spock is dangerous without his shield," Jim replied.

" _So much so that it has been deemed a crime by the Vulcan Elders for him to go without one._ "

"That's poppycock!" Leonard exploded. "You can't punish a man for his genetics!"

Jim dropped a hand to Leonard's shoulder. "Another fight for another time, Bones."

Leonard subsided. "Geoff, what you are trying to say? He's broken his shield?"

" _You would know it if he did,_ " M'Benga responded somewhat dryly. " _No, I'm trained to recognize the effect of stress on the Vulcan body. Hearing the Captain's explanation, I can guess rather easily why Mr. Spock is suffering._ "

Leonard's stomach plummeted. He hated to hear that word 'suffering' applied to anyone. "What should I do?"

" _Unless you can convince Mr. Spock to break his mental connection to Kirk, not much. His body recognizes that it is in danger, yet another unique ability of the Vulcans. Soon, his brain will begin to shut down his bodily functions in order to maintain the energy level necessary to feed the link. I must warn you both, this is not a healing trance. Mr. Spock will die._ "

In other words, Spock was draining his own life away for the sake of waging a mental battle on behalf of Jim.

Leonard wasn't going to allow that to go on. He covered the hand on his shoulder with his own, not needing to look at Kirk to know how much the knowledge of Spock's sacrifice hurt him. "I feel like I am close to finding a combination of drugs that can counter the influence of the poison but one missing piece continues to elude me. Geoff, send me the medical logs from every field assignment from the start of the five-year mission that involved brainwashing."

Jim said in a manner half-serious, half-joking, "That could be most of our ship's library, Bones."

"Then I'll read the whole damn library," Leonard retorted. "Unless you want to tell Spock through that link to stop being a goosehead. Just because the team said they needed their captain didn't mean they needed Spock any less. He was a fool to do this."

"Spock says he assumes 'goosehead' is a derogatory remark."

Leonard sat back, surprised.

Hurriedly, Jim amended, "That was another joke."

Leonard eyed his captain. Somehow he didn't think it was. "Also tell Spock I'm still pissed at him for firing me."

"What?" Kirk and M'Benga cried at the same time.

" _Gods,_ " lamented M'Benga, " _does this make me Acting CMO?_ "

Leonard said a bit smugly, "The Captain's going to reinstate me."

"Consider it done," Jim agreed quickly.

"I'll continue to send you Spock's readings," Leonard told his second-in-command. "I also found a stabilizing solution for the ergot infection. I have enough doses for the crew here but it couldn't hurt to make extra for us."

" _Will do, Dr. McCoy._ "

They ended the call.

Leonard found himself stroking the back of Spock's hand and had to still his hand. The time had come. He stood up and turned to face Jim directly.

Jim drew in a tiny breath, held it, and after a moment opened his arms.

Leonard didn't hesitate.

The way they held each other was somewhere in between hugging and clinging.

"I missed you," Jim said into the crook of Leonard's neck.

Leonard admitted his worst fear, "I thought you would die. I was such a coward, I couldn't face it."

"I'm here."

He drew back and said, "I'm sorry," wondering if Spock could hear the apology.

Oddly, Jim gave him an understanding look. "You didn't give up. That's all that matters."

"Jim..." Leonard stepped back, hating to be the one to do this but knowing no one else could or should. "It's far from over."

Jim closed his eyes briefly. "I thought as much." His fists clenched, then relaxed. "I can recognize a lockdown when I see one. Medical?"

"Yes. The symptoms you experienced in the silo were caused by the diseased grain—ergot, only deadlier, more difficult to treat. We're all carriers, if not outright infected."

Jim swayed slightly on his feet at the mention of the rotting grain. "What else?"

There were so many things to explain, with one in particular that Leonard knew had to be said. "Jim," he coaxed, "sit down."

Kirk did, dropping heavily to the edge of the biobed next to Spock's outstretched legs.

There was no good approach.

Jim paled slightly in response to Leonard's long hesitation. He also said with a hint of temper, "Just say it, McCoy."

"Tarsus IV."

For a long minute, and not unexpectedly, Kirk clammed up. Then, as if trying to convince himself more than Leonard, he argued, "A fluke."

"No, it isn't."

Jim gripped his knees. "The people of Tassos III aren't dying, Bones. They're not being executed in the streets. Don't tell me it is the same as Tarsus IV."

"The disease is the same."

All at once, Kirk folded in on himself, gripped his head. "Of course, _of course_. The rot. I recognized the smell." His voice grew smaller and smaller until it petered out.

Leonard knelt in front of him. "Jim..."

"I can't do this," the man moaned.

"You're stronger than you think," Leonard replied. "Jim, look at me." He waited until Jim steeled himself and met his gaze. "You are not Kodos. You will never be Kodos. Tappan planned this deliberately to hit you where you're weakest—or where he thinks you are. But he doesn't know you like I do, Jim. Tarsus IV didn't make you weak. It made you strong, strong enough to see past all the smoke and mirrors. This is not and will not become another Tarsus IV."

"How can you be certain? How can you know I won't—"

"Because you would never let that happen."

Jim reached for him.

Leonard linked their hands, giving Kirk the contact he needed. "Contrary to what most people think, you know I can't easily express how I feel, so believe me when I say I love you, James Tiberius Kirk."

Jim's hand tightened on his. "Bones."

Leonard swallowed down heavy emotion and finished, "Fight for us, Jim."

Jim let go of him, dropping his hand to Spock's leg, which he squeezed as if reassuring Spock. Jim said, "I will do my best... for both of you."

Jim had known he meant Spock. Leonard himself wasn't certain why he meant to include Spock but, again, Jim seemed to understand.

Jim retracted his hand, then, and slowly came to his feet. The captain Leonard served had returned.

"Tell me everything," Kirk ordered. "Leave nothing out."

* * *

 **Okay. You all are amazing for keeping with the story this far. The last chapter will likely take the form of a two-parter: resolution and epilogue. I might need a little time to put it together properly, but it is coming. Again, thank you to all of my amazing readers!**


	14. Part Fourteen

**After an agonizing week of labor, here are Parts Fourteen and Fifteen and the Epilogue. This story was a wild ride. By the time I reached the end, I felt as insane as some of the characters. Therefore my only warning is to read this once you are prepared to offer at least one hour of your sanity. Good luck!**

* * *

Leonard had to admit that he might have made a mistake. When everyone literally cheered at the return of Captain Kirk, Jim shed his tension in the face of their exuberance. It was only because Leonard stepped in, warning the people crowding around Kirk not to engage in physical contact with the still-infected man, that they retracted their hands and Jim forewent his customary shoulder clasps of welcome. But Jim's eyes were brighter than they had been moments ago; his lips were upturned in a tiny smile. He greeted each officer by name and made the wry comment that he hadn't meant to fall asleep on the job.

Yes, Leonard's mistake was evident now. Isolating the crew from their captain—and the captain from his crew—had only served to keep everyone off-balance. As much as Leonard wanted to protect Jim from the harsh reality of their circumstances, he had done the man an injustice by denying him the support and camaraderie of the men and women who trusted him. Worse yet, he had denied the crew the one person who gave them the confidence to fight back when times were toughest.

His guilt must have shown in his face, for Jim touched a hand to his back and thanked him in a grave tone.

"For what?" Leonard asked, becoming uncomfortable as all eyes turned to him.

"Keeping us alive."

He folded his arms across his chest and pursed his mouth. "It'd be a lot easier if I had patients who cooperated."

Olivares and Danson grinned at him. Sandeep looked guilty as charged. The still-bedridden Joran muttered that he didn't think he had been given a choice. Another lieutenant nodded from his bed in solemn agreement. Giotto kept a staunch silence, as always.

Jim's hand stroked Leonard back, just briefly, as though he knew full well how apologetic Leonard was feeling beneath his bluster. To the others, he said smoothly, "I expect Dr. McCoy's orders to be followed to the letter."

An obedient chorus of "Aye, Captain!" prompted Leonard to smile.

He faced to Jim and said, "Captain Kirk will lead by example. Hold out your arm."

Jim sighed softly but did as instructed, gaze amused. Leonard rolled up the sleeve of the man's jumpsuit and beckoned Sandeep, who came forward with the case of hyposprays Leonard had barely finished putting together before Giotto's distress call.

"All who are infected," the doctor announced as he administered a shot to Jim's upper arm, "must receive treatment and remain under an hour's observation before I am willing to clear you for duty. The rest of you can consider this shot your inoculation. Line up."

The un-infected groaned.

As Jim rolled down his sleeve, Leonard told him in a quieter tone, "I want you to wait for me in there," indicating the private room where Spock lay unconscious.

Jim insisted, "I need to visit the control room, Bones."

Giotto stepped up to them and held out his arm. "I will go with Captain Kirk."

The men watched Leonard, waiting for his decision. Leonard depressed a hypospray against Giotto's skin and offered a compromise. "I need to see him back here in twenty minutes, Mr. Giotto."

Kirk countered good-naturedly, "Twenty-five."

"You'll have a nice headache by then, Captain. Believe me, you won't want to delay my attentions."

The soft smile Jim gave him made Leonard feel better.

Giotto inclined his head in the direction of the exit, saying politely, "After you, sir."

Kirk strode away, the head of Security falling in step beside him.

Leonard felt a pang that it wasn't Spock by Jim's side. Then he had to set that unusual thought aside, for the next person in line was ready to be treated.

* * *

Giotto and Kirk came to a stop in front of a closed door. Before Giotto swept a hand across the lock panel and input the entry code, Jim turned to him.

"I should warn you, John. I am not entirely myself right now. I may do or say something strange. If you have cause to question my orders, do so. If you feel threatened, it is permissible to disable me."

Giotto replied in a steady voice, "That goes without saying, sir. It may be that you can increase our chances of survival, but I certainly have no intention of allowing you to jeopardize them."

Kirk's mouth twitched. "Mr. Giotto, now you know why I wanted to keep you on my ship."

Giotto gave him a strange look. "I had no plans to leave, Captain."

"Good to hear." Jim faced the door.

Giotto unlocked it, and the men went inside.

* * *

 _What am I looking for?_

A voice answered faintly, as though at a great distance. Nonetheless, it was achingly familiar to Jim. Instructions came in a combination of pictures and words of where to go, what to do.

To Giotto, it must have looked like Jim was an expert at hacking into a security system he had never encountered before. Jim wished he could give credit where credit was due, except that it would be awkward to say, _I don't mind how cozy it is with my first officer inside my head._

His shoulders bunched as his thoughts started the inevitable slide sideways and burned with irritation. Only moments later, his mind cooled.

 _Thank you, Mr. Spock._

Spock admonished him for the repeated thanks. According to the Vulcan, Jim had a penchant for expressing unnecessary gratitude in the same manner that McCoy offered unnecessary apologies. The habits were illogical, clearly human—and Jim was beginning to understand why Spock took such pleasure in pointing them out.

Admonishment again. Vulcans did not indulge in pleasure.

Jim countered by remembering the various times he had witnessed Spock and McCoy arguing. The memories held his perspective: two friends good-naturedly scrapping, trying to outwit one another; one of them with blue, blue eyes and a mouth that could switch between a scowl and a grin at a moment's notice; the other, very reserved except in the way his hooded gaze failed to hide how much fun he was having. If anyone took more pleasure in Spock and McCoy's fights than they did, it was Jim.

Something happened to the connection, then. It sparked and spat like an overloaded circuit. Jim's impression of Spock became much, much clearer.

 _Jim, I can feel..._

"Captain?"

It took a moment for Jim to come out of his head. He turned around to look at Giotto.

"Something wrong?" the man asked. He indicated the computer screen where Spock's custom-built security program was waiting for the next command.

"Not at the moment." Jim faced forward again. "You asked Mr. Spock to sub-layer the shielding. To do that, he had to divert some of the auxiliary power from the environmental controls. The levels need to be monitored regularly, otherwise we might end up in a surprise blizzard. I am attaching a mobile code override. We'll take the data card with us. It may prove useful in other ways."

"I didn't realize your interest in computer science went beyond the basics, sir."

"Every command-track cadet is required to take three levels of it," Jim replied before remarking more dryly, "although I took so many courses, I nearly had a double track. It was... fascinating work. I'm especially fond of sub-routines." There was a slight pressure in his mind. "I'm not divulging that information, mister."

"Sorry?"

"Ignore me, Lieutenant-Commander. Just trying to hold on to my secrets."

Giotto shook his head slightly. "I won't ask."

Jim gave him a thin-lipped smile. "Yes, it's better if you don't." Another feather-light touch swept across his mind. _Spock, focus._

He wanted to tell Bones how easily Spock became distracted, like a child on an unsupervised exploration, and how insatiable Vulcan curiosity was.

No, wait. He couldn't tell Bones a thing. Bones would give him an earful about the dangers of prolonged telepathic contact. Psy-nulls weren't meant to have other beings rifling through their heads.

But Spock wasn't just any being. He was a friend. He was more than—the way Jim felt—

Those thoughts he shut down immediately, so no prying Vulcans could accidentally stumble across them.

Sharing head-space did put him at a disadvantage when he needed to keep a secret. He had acknowledged that each time they entered a mind meld in the past, though admittedly keeping secrets had never been a priority. Truly, he didn't mind Spock knowing him better than anyone else.

 _You honor me, Captain. However, I must remind you that the sharing of minds is not an act to be taken lightly._

 _Do you know how much you sound like Bones?_

 _I see no reason for insult._

 _Leonard is a wonderful person once you get to know him._

The response from Spock was a strangely familiar emotion. Before Jim could completely decipher its nuances, it vanished.

Ah, so Spock had secrets to keep as well. Jim could be curious too.

 _Captain..._ The Vulcan didn't appear to be comfortable with Jim's curiosity.

 _Jim, not Captain. I prefer to be called by my first name when I'm this intimate with someone,_ he joked.

Another fizzle-pop along the connection. What was that?

 _Capt—Jim. Desist. Your emotions are... affecting the link._

Worried now, Jim had to know, _Are you all right? What am I doing wrong?_

 _The effect is natural, given... I must..._

Spock began to fade in and out without warning, and Jim's orderly thoughts fell apart. He was set adrift in the chaos, an invisible force pulling him closer and closer toward a dark center, an ugly place that had been unburied in his mind.

"—ptain! Captain Kirk!"

Jim blinked as he returned to the mundane world. He had folded his body over the computer console, clutching viciously at his head. Giotto's grip on his shoulders was almost painful.

The man insisted when Jim pushed away from him, "Captain, we should go back to Dr. McCoy. This can wait."

" _Negative_ ," he snapped, his tone harder than he meant it to be, as he ruthlessly squashed an urge to pace. "There is no more waiting, Mr. Giotto. The shields will fail us in precisely one hundred fifty-three point six-nine minutes. At that time, the likelihood of—" He stopped talking at the sharp intake of breath of the man standing next to him.

Giotto was looking at him strangely. "...Commander Spock?"

Jim closed his eyes briefly. "I am not Mr. Spock." _What just happened?_

 _I cannot be certain, Jim._

"But he's with you," Giotto guessed.

"In a manner of speaking."

Eventually Giotto replied. "I have no issue obeying you or the Commander, but how can I know which of you is in control?"

Jim almost barked, _Does it matter?_ But it did matter, he knew that very well. An officer like Giotto didn't blindly take orders, nor should Jim expect him to.

 _Might I make a suggestion?_

Spock did. Jim was somewhat tickled by it, which caused a flavor of confusion from his partner.

He told John, "In the event that Spock needs to assume control, he will—and I quote—treat my body as if it were his own."

Both of Giotto's eyebrows flew upwards.

Jim swallowed a chuckle. "In other words, if I act like a Vulcan, I am one." He returned to the console, finished a line of code, and closed down the security program. "Patch me through to the ship."

"Aye, Captain." Giotto contacted the Enterprise then offered up his comm unit.

Jim said into it, "Scotty, how's our girl?"

" _Capt'n!_ "

The garbled sounds which came through the speaker were several individuals exclaiming his name at once.

Jim's mood brightened to hear their clamor. He assured them, "Yes, this is Captain Kirk. Attention!" and was rewarded with immediate silence. "Better. Mr. Scott, what do the ship's scanners pick up from the surface?"

" _Interference messes with readings, sir. We cannae distinguish between life forms. Uhura unscrambled communications, but otherwise your position remains unknown._ "

So, a large-scale target-and-stun operation was out of the question. They couldn't risk striking the colony from space when the Enterprise was essentially blind.

Tappan would enjoy the thought of blindly destroying everything.

Thinking about Tappan made Jim angry. No matter what Tappan said no one had the right to harm the people on Tassos III!

Calm embraced his mind, buoyed him up from the dark place that continued to beckon him.

Jim breathed deeply and ran his thumb along the side of the communicator. "I hear the transporters are functional—but not advisable?"

" _Not for organic matter, Capt'n, unless you don't mind guesswork in how we distinguish your molecules. We've only been using it when necessary, based on the coordinates of the communicator signals to move inanimate objects._ "

 _I do prefer my calculations to be precise, but should you require the use of the transporter, I am able to estimate coordinates with ninety-eight point eight percent accuracy._

 _It's already difficult to justify the use of a transporter during a Code 7-10. We won't push our luck unless we have to._

Jim said into the communicator, "Continue as you are, Mr. Scott. You will be one of the first to know if our situation changes. Kirk out." He closed the device in his hand and turned to Giotto. "Dr. McCoy was right. I do need him now. Let's go."

* * *

With mixed emotions, Kirk's crew watched him pace. The younger lieutenants looked hopeful. The Chief of Security was cautious. His senior medical officer glared a bit, as though he only cared that Jim was running down his weak body.

 _I have nothing,_ Kirk thought with frustration. _Spock, I need to think!_

He froze in place, squeezed his eyes shut in regret.

"Jim?"

Jim opened his eyes and glanced at McCoy. _Spock... Spock, I apologize. I know you're doing what you can._ It disturbed him when there was no answer.

He made in a slow circle, attempting to distract himself by surveying the ward. When his gaze landed on a particular corner, he asked, "Bones, how close are you to developing the antidote to the poison?"

"You're assuming that an antidote exists."

He turned on McCoy, then. "Does it?" He couldn't bear the thought he might never regain his control.

Leonard's voice held sympathy. "There's not really a cure for this particular illness, Jim. Think of it as an overdose of a hallucinogenic drug. It can be _treated_."

"And if not treated?"

"In time the poison would its course, but how long that would take I couldn't tell you. I can say that you're luckier than someone like him." He indicated Leta's son, the patient in the corner that Jim had been staring at. "Because the colonists were exposed to the substance far longer, their bodies have latched onto it like an addiction. I want to bring them out of it, which means inducing withdrawal. The recovery itself will likely take weeks."

Jim's heart went out to these people. "What's the expected survival rate?"

"Can't say," answered McCoy in a quieter tone. "Mephredone exposure of this magnitude has never been studied. To ensure their best chance there needs to be dedicated resources on the ground. I recommend bringing in one of the medical ships to take over."

"The moment we can, we'll call for aid."

Leonard nodded. "Dr. M'Benga is awaiting the order."

Bones was telling him in a subtle way that no matter what else happened on this colony, Tassos III would receive the help it needed to recover in the aftermath. Jim certainly could live with that.

Giotto spoke up. "Captain, not to sound cold-hearted, but our foremost concern should be our survival."

Jim started to reply but an urge to check the data padd in his hand overcame him. He did so, noting that they had less than two hours until the energy shields around the complex began to deteriorate. If they waited that long, they were doomed.

Giotto studied Jim's reaction carefully. "Do we fight back? Mr. Scott can send us a supply of phaser rifles and more containment fields."

McCoy harrumphed. "Perfect. So when the cavalry finally shows up, it will look like we've terrorized a whole planet."

Jim said, "I won't give Tappan that kind of leverage."

"We're cornered," Giotto pointed out.

"And the instinct is to come out fighting," he acknowledged. "But Dr. McCoy is right. We have to consider the ripple effect of our actions from here on out. Aggression from Starfleet, or the appearance thereof, could spark an insurrection which none of us are prepared to handle." He could tell he was deflating their hopes. "I'm not ordering you to sacrifice yourselves. I'm asking you to consider alternative solutions to a firefight." And if that didn't sound like advice from Mr. Spock, Jim didn't know what did.

 _Well said._

 _There you are! I thought you had given up on me._

 _Hardly. I am attempting to stay out your way, as it were, while you decide on an appropriate course of action._

 _Spock, your insight is part of my decision-making process._

A sense of warmth was projected at him.

"Jim? Jim, are you listening?"

Jim cleared his throat, realizing his silences were upsetting his doctor. This was one of the drawbacks to engaging in separate conversations with his two most trusted advisors. He would always prefer that the three of them brainstorm together.

The warmth in his mind blazed fire-hot for a moment. Jim made a small gasp, surprised by its intensity. McCoy was at his side in an instant, scanning him head to toe with a medical tricorder.

Embarrassed, Jim made a shooing motion. "I'm all right, Bones. I just had a thought."

"Don't lie to me," snapped the doctor; nonetheless, he retracted his tricorder.

Jim couldn't meet the man's eyes. He turned to the others. "Our alternative solution is escape, ladies and gentlemen—which at this juncture I would gladly consider a victory. The question becomes how we accomplish it."

Lieutenant Sandeep raised a hand. "We could drop the shield and make a run for it... but there's nowhere to go that would be safer than there."

"Except the Enterprise," Danson added. "Dr. McCoy, can't you lift the quarantine?"

"The quarantine stays," Jim answered for his CMO. "I won't risk an infection finding its way off planet."

Giotto folded his arms. "A gas attack, then. Neutralize the colonists without causalities so Tappan has no one to send after us."

"How's that different than stunning them?" Olivares questioned.

Jim had a thought. "It's not that different unless... we make it different. Bones." He stared at his CMO. "We need that mephredone treatment ASAP."

With a huff, McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. "What other miracles shall I perform while I'm at it, Captain?"

Jim clapped a hand to the doctor's shoulder. "You can do it."

"What's your plan?" Giotto wanted to know.

Jim said, "We will give the Governor what he wants."

"Jim, he wants you!"

"And he shall have me," Jim replied.

Giotto reached for his phaser and moved to block the exit.

Jim said, amused, "Stand down, Mr. Giotto."

Leonard shackled Jim's wrist. "We can't let you do it, Jim. There has to be a better way."

Oh, his people were much too stubborn.

"You said you needed me." Jim met each officer's gaze in turn. "How can that be true if you aren't willing to trust me?"

After a thoughtful silence, his Chief of Security re-sheathed the phaser. "You have our trust, Captain Kirk."

The others echoed their agreement one by one.

Everyone, that was, except for Dr. McCoy.

Jim understood Leonard's silence. It had nothing to do with trust or faith. He slid his hand down McCoy's arm and gave the tense fingers a comforting squeeze. "Bring everyone together. Contact the Enterprise," he ordered. "I'll explain, and we can iron out the details together."

Sandeep and Olivares each headed to a biobed, Danson went in search of Kolarski, and Giotto flipped opened his communicator. Jim felt a gentle prick against the side of his neck. He touched the spot and asked McCoy, "What was that?"

"Vitamins," came the gruff answer. Leonard busied himself with resetting the dosage on the hypospray in his hand. "Don't worry," he added more quietly, "I wouldn't give you something that could affect the connection to Spock." He paused. "How is he?"

Jim loved this man. He truly did—and he saw no reason to hide those feelings from the companion in his head. "Spock doesn't want you to worry about him."

Leonard shook his head slightly. "Easier said than done." He slipped the hypo back into a pocket. "Speaking of, I'll go check on the hobgoblin. Be right back."

Jim watched him leave. _Spock._

 _Yes, Jim?_

 _Can we pull it off?_

 _We must hope that we can._

 _Agreed._ Jim sighed. _I want to try this but I don't want to risk you. Tell me if you can't do it._

The answer was accompanied by a strong undertone of pride and no small amount of trust: _I am capable, Jim._

Jim hoped his gratitude was evident.

* * *

After the briefing, Leonard pulled his captain into Spock's room with an excuse he barely remembered. Once the door whisked shut, he covered his face with his hands.

Jim called his name sharply. "Bones?"

Leonard dragged his hands down his face. "Do you consider no risk to be too great?"

Kirk pressed his mouth into a line. "I understand what's at risk here, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard willed himself not to lose patience. "You know Tappan won't be easy to fool, which means there is only one way you can convince him that he has won." Leonard held Kirk's gaze. "You intend to revert back to the way you were."

The man nodded.

"With Spock as your safety net," concluded the doctor, looking away. "He already agreed to this plan, no doubt. Did you even consider what happens if you break _him_?"

Silence.

He turned back to Jim, saw the hurt as plain as day on Kirk's face, but knew he couldn't take any of it back. "Someone needs to say this for Spock's sake. Hell, you're already in the process of damaging him." He pointed to the unconscious body on the bed. "I had to shut off the alarms because his vitals are so far out of range, everyone in this building would be deaf by now. Doing this could be the final nail in his coffin."

"Spock can come back from this."

Leonard's thin smile held no humor in it. "And you believe him because he never lies?"

Kirk curled a fist, started forward but abruptly pulled back. "What are you driving at, Bones?"

"Don't trust Spock to abide by his limits. He'll gladly die for you and you will know it only a second after it's too late." Leonard swallowed hard. "I'm speaking as his physician and your friend. Gambling with your life—that's bad enough. Don't gamble with someone else's."

Jim's expression had shuttered as Leonard spoke, and Leonard prepared himself for an unpleasant response. But rather than saying something that would hurt them both deeply, Kirk's facial muscles suddenly relaxed. He straightened his spine and fell into parade rest; and when the man looked at Leonard, his face more composed than Leonard had ever seen it.

"I must disagree with you," Jim said.

Leonard was torn between relief and apprehension. "About time you showed up."

Only one of Kirk's eyebrows lifted, something which Jim had never been able to do.

"I can't say I'm happy to see you," Leonard continued on, "especially since that's not your body."

"Forego the lecture, Doctor. There is no time for it."

Leonard stepped in close and leveled a finger at Kirk's nose. "Don't tell me what to do, you pointy-eared hobgoblin!"

Jim blinked, reached up and delicately traced the edge of one of his round ears. "Fascinating."

"Spock!" Leonard turned bright red on Jim's behalf.

Jim resumed his formal stance. "I appreciate your concern for my well-being, Dr. McCoy. However, it stands that I have chosen this path of my own will."

"Then what are we supposed to do if your body gives out?"

Jim never hesitated. "Perform the rite of the katric ark."

Before Leonard could ask what a katric ark was, Jim amended in Spock's monotone, "In the event of my death, Jim will be made aware of what to do."

Leonard's throat closed on him.

Jim released his hands and reached forward, curling his fingers around one of Leonard's arms.

"Spock..." Leonard began to say, but the emotion that came into Jim's face could not have belonged to Spock.

Without resistance, Leonard went into his lover's arms.

"Leonard," Jim said softly, a tinge of wonder to his voice. Kirk's body relaxed at the same time his arms tightened around McCoy.

"Bones," Jim murmured against his ear.

"You can't do this to me, Jim."

"You won't lose us." Jim's hands ran down the doctor's back. "Trust me?"

Leonard answered this time, knowing Jim deserved to hear the words. "I trust you."

"Then help us win."

He nodded. There was little else he could do.


	15. Part Fifteen

**Parts Fourteen and Fifteen and Epilogue posted together. Be certain you have read Part Fourteen first!**

* * *

Lt. Andrew Kolarski handed a pair of communicators to Giotto. "As requested, sir. Functionality is restricted to one channel."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Giotto nodded at Danson. "Open the door, Lt. Danson."

Every officer in the waiting room held his or her breath as Danson unlocked the double-set doors and eased one open. Beyond the door it was difficult to see anything except blackness and indistinct shapes camped on the horizon.

PADD in hand, Kirk said, "On my mark, Mr. Giotto."

Giotto positioned himself to the side of the door.

The captain's fingers danced across his device's screen. There was no mistaking the quick, efficient movements as belonging to Mr. Spock. "Accessing shield protocol. Inactivation sequence initiated in five, four, three, two, one—now, Mr. Giotto!"

The shielding over the doorway rippled and faded. Giotto took a step back, wound up his body like a pitcher on the mound, and threw one communicator through the doorway. It sailed into the darkness and disappeared.

Kirk never once looked up from his screen. "Shields reactivated."

The faint blue tinge of the shielding covered the doorway again.

The captain lowered the data padd and blinked. "Nice throw, John."

Giotto shrugged one shoulder. "Thanks, Captain. My second career choice was joining the Leagues."

McCoy's shoulder brushed against Kirk's. "Do you think they were watching?"

"Absolutely," replied Jim. "Now we wait."

And wait they did. For twenty minutes, the twin communicator in Giotto's hand remained silent. Oddly, it was Kirk who stood still while McCoy paced. When the communicator crackled to life, everyone jumped except Kirk.

"Hm," came an inquisitive voice over the channel, "most interesting. I apologize for the delay. I had to be certain this device was as it seemed. To whom am I speaking?"

"Giotto, Chief of Security of the United Starship Enterprise."

"My good sir, put your captain on."

"That isn't an option, Governor. Kirk is unavailable." Giotto paused. "Mr. Spock as well. I am the man in charge now."

"I'm not certain I can believe you."

"I don't care if you do. I'm the only one willing to make a deal with you. You can have Kirk," he said, "if you spare me and my team."

Outside, the stirring in the dark could have been anyone, but it was Tappan who made the soft hiss of surprise. "Do I seem like a fool, Mr. Giotto?" he said. "A man like you would never give over his captain."

"A man like me only serves someone he can trust—and a captain who tries to kill his crew is not someone I can trust."

Tappan's silence lasted so long, they thought they had lost the connection. Then they heard, "Perhaps there would be some benefit to doing business together. Let us meet in person."

"Negotiations typically occur on neutral ground, but I don't have the luxury of dropping our shields until I know if I should trust you. So you come to us, Governor," Giotto stated.

"That hardly seems fair."

"Remember, you're the one with the army. If I thought I had the upper hand, we would be fighting, not talking. Your choice. I won't wait long." Giotto ended the call and looked at the people surrounding him.

"Good work, Lieutenant-Commander," Kirk said. "Blanca, Sandeep, stay with Giotto. Danson, find a position where you can't readily be seen. You're their backup in case something goes wrong. Lt. Kolarski will man the control room."

Olivares and Sandeep stepped in close to Giotto and saluted Kirk.

Kirk turned to McCoy. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Leonard replied. "Follow me." He left the room with the captain on his heels.

All eyes were on Kirk and McCoy as they entered the patient ward. Leonard stripped off the top sheet of the last empty biobed, and Jim obediently laid down upon it. The doctor didn't look at him as he began to bind the man's limbs with old-fashioned bedside restraints.

Jim watched him in silence until the task was done. "Bones."

Leonard straightened up without a word.

"Bones, I—"

"No goodbyes, Jim. I'm holding you to your promise."

"Understood," Jim replied. Closing his eyes, he murmured, "Let's do this," as if the phrase kick-started the process. Jim's body relaxed a moment later, giving him the appearance of having fallen asleep.

Until, quietly at first, the man began to mutter. The nonsensical muttering became agitated jerks of his head, followed by the tensing of limbs. Then the man's eyes flew open, and he snarled, "What is this? Why am I restrained? Who gave the order?" His glazed eyes landed on the doctor hovering over him.

"I gave the order, Captain."

"McCoy, I am going to kill you once I'm free. I'm going to wring your neck!"

The CMO glanced at the other patients, taking in their expressions of horror. "This is not your captain," he reminded them. "Never forget that."

"McCoy!" cried Kirk as Leonard pocketed a hypospray and walked away. "You traitor! I'll never forgive you!" His struggling became fierce, although futile. "Come back here! I said come back!"

By the entrance to the ward, Dr. McCoy placed a hand against the wall and bowed his head. Several of the lieutenants shifted restlessly in their beds, some of them thumbing phasers hidden beneath their covers; others, counting with closed eyes.

The game had begun, and everyone was playing.

* * *

Augustus Tappan was a cautious man by nature. He was also patient. Both these traits had served him well in the past and did so now. He could easily tell a game was afoot, but something could likely be gained by playing along. That was the opportunity he did not want to miss.

With this mindset, he chose three men: two to accompany him as guards and the third to quietly await a chance to turn the tide in their favor. Tappan was hardly a fool, as he had plainly told Kirk's man. He already held a wild card and so was entering the game at an advantage.

He pictured himself walking into a tiger's den. He would return with the tiger's head and be exalted.

When Tappan and his men stood before the complex, he contacted Giotto.

"Wait at the entrance," Giotto instructed over the comm unit. "Don't bother trying to force your way in elsewhere. You won't succeed."

"I am at your mercy," Tappan demurred. "Ah, I should mention that I brought some friends. They will... see to my personal safety."

Giotto made no reply to that. A moment later, a small section of shield over the doors wavered and disappeared. One door opened.

Tappan adjusted the glasses resting on his nose, smiled, and went in.

Immediately he was accosted by a grim-faced officer bearing a phaser.

"We come unarmed," he announced, centering his gaze on the man standing slightly aside watching the proceedings. He recognized Mr. Giotto from the landing party.

Tappan lifted his arms and endured a body search in silence, as did his guards.

Giotto tilted his head in the direction of the two farmers. "It surprises me how docile they are."

"We are not as violent as you assume." Tappan's eyes crinkled at the corners. "And these men take orders well."

"Then I expect you'll keep them in line."

"To the best of my ability," agreed Tappan in an idle tone. "Now, let's talk about Kirk."

The woman standing next to Giotto cried out sharply, "Lieutenant!"

The lieutenant who stood near Tappan's group swayed on his feet and wiped an arm across his brow. A light rash, Tappan noted, covered part of his face. The man had lowered his phaser in a moment of weakness and that was why the woman had barked at him.

Giotto ordered them to change positions.

If these were Giotto's best officers, then the best was dismally poor.

But it might be that they wanted Tappan to believe they were as weak as they appeared, although he did not doubt the sickness had culled their ranks.

"I wonder," he remarked, "what happened to your Vulcan commander."

Giotto didn't answer.

"Are you certain he is... unavailable?"

"If Mr. Spock was capable of command, he would never consider negotiating with you."

Tappan laced his fingers across his stomach. "How fortunate for us, then."

Giotto said, "I told you why I brought you here. I want to stay alive."

The man's acting was very good. Very, very good. Tappan could believe that he spoke with sincerity.

"Take me to Kirk, Mr. Giotto."

Giotto nodded once and beckoned Tappan and his men to follow him. Tappan murmured to the man on his right, "Stay alert. Wait for my orders."

The hollow-eyed man said, "Aye, Gov'nor."

They walked with Giotto's male officer keeping a close eye on them from up front and the female officer watching their backs. Their group pushed through the common area to the ward where the patients should have been kept under close supervision. Tappan, however, felt some surprise to note that Kirk's Chief Medical Officer was not in attendance.

He forgot about McCoy when he saw Kirk.

Kirk lay utterly still, his breaths even, face slightly flushed. He was in restraints.

Giotto barred his path the man's path when Tappan moved in that direction.

Kirk's eyes popped open as if he had sensed the movement. His head jerked in their direction, and he bared his teeth as an animal might.

"Giotto," Kirk coaxed, voice hoarse like he had worn it out screaming, "let me go and I'll promote you—make you First."

Giotto ignored his captain. "See for yourself how you ruined him."

"I have no idea what you mean," Tappan countered. Yes, it did look like the drug had been effective with Kirk. But he had to be certain. "Why is he restrained?"

Giotto stared at Tappan for a moment, then turned to Kirk and said, "You're finished as Captain. I'm in charge now."

That was all it took: Kirk exploded into a thrashing wild man. He howled, and he bucked, and if not for the restraints it was clear he would have run straight at Giotto and tried to tear him apart. One of the other patients threw his covers over his head to block out the sight. The rest seemed to be blissfully sedated, heedless of the raging beast that had become their precious captain.

Tappan almost salivated at the thought of what he could provoke Kirk to do. So close. So close to having everything he wanted!

"We have a deal, Mr. Giotto. I guarantee your safe return. In exchange—"

A man came out of an adjacent room, saying, "Jim, calm down..." He skidded to a stop once he saw Tappan.

"Evening, Dr. McCoy," greeted Tappan.

McCoy's tired face turned sickly pale, creating a stark contrast with the dark circles under his eyes.

It was the doctor's shock and his dawning realization of the situation at hand that captured and held Tappan's attention.

The man shook his head slowly in denial. "Giotto, why is he here?"

Tappan watched Giotto make a subtle motion with his hand to his two officers. They tensed.

McCoy's voice came at them swiftly, his voice growing stronger. "Why is that son of a bitch standing here?"

"Dr. McCoy, I—"

"How dare you!"

Kirk's physician leapt at Giotto—and Giotto's officers interceded, grabbing McCoy and locking his arms behind his back.

"Kirk is our captain!" McCoy cried. "You can't do this! He'll kill Jim!"

"We don't have another choice."

The doctor's struggles intensified. "Damn your rotten souls, let me go! This is mutiny! Mutiny!"

"Stand down," Giotto told his officers wearily.

The moment McCoy was free, he landed a punch on Giotto's jaw.

Tappan made a noise of surprise. He couldn't look away.

Giotto grimaced and rubbed at his chin.

McCoy turned on Tappan and spat, "Get out unless you want a taste of my right hook too."

Oh, but McCoy's temper was something else. "I was invited."

The doctor snarled.

"Doctor," Giotto interceded, implacable, "by rights I am in command. Kirk is useless, and we have to survive. I'm ordering you to stand aside."

"Over my dead body!"

 _That can be arranged_ , Tappan thought. He commented to Giotto, "Clearly the decision was not unanimous."

"It wasn't up for vote."

Tappan noted shame in the eyes of the other officers. Interesting. Were they truly going to hand over Captain Kirk?

He asked Giotto, "Do we have a deal or not?"

"We do," the man confirmed, and commanded his subordinates to remove Dr. McCoy from the ward.

"Wait." McCoy stepped back, his shoulders drooping in defeat despite the fury in his face. "Kirk is still my patient. He needs a doctor."

Karen would be pleased. "Dr. McCoy, I'm a reasonable man. Arrangements can be made if you wish to stay with Kirk."

The doctor's eyes darkened. "I won't be your hostage."

Tappan smiled. "Thanks to Mr. Giotto, none of you will be hostages. You have safe passage to return to your ship, unless of course you have a reason to stay here, such as healing Kirk—and my son."

"Who's your son?"

Tappan waved a hand at the young man in a medical coma across the room. "Ramses' mother informs me he has taken ill. As ill as the rest of my people. Help us, Doctor, and we will help you." Yes, that sounded good. He made certain to offer up a benevolent smile.

McCoy glanced at Giotto momentarily before telling Tappan, "I have a second condition. You can't kill Kirk."

Concerning this Tappan could be honest. "I wouldn't dream of killing him."

Giotto nodded decisively. "Then the deal has been struck. Olivares, Sandeep, help Dr. McCoy with Mr. Kirk."

Tappan cut a sly look at Giotto. " _Mister_ Kirk?"

Giotto didn't seem to be a man who ever smiled. "I am Captain now."

Tappan wouldn't gainsay that illusion.

It was McCoy who paused in depressing a hypospray against Kirk's neck as if another thought had occurred to him. "Spock... I can't leave him either. He's in worse condition than Jim."

Was that so? That was beyond interesting.

Giotto frowned. "You said there isn't much chance he will recover."

"I said I can't help him," McCoy corrected the other man indignantly. "I don't have training in Vulcan biology, and the infection has weakened him beyond what little I can do."

"Then there is no use in taking the Vulcan with us," Tappan pointed out. "I'm afraid you'll have to let Giotto carry him back to your ship."

McCoy bit into his lower lip but didn't argue. Given that Tappan had witnessed the depth of the pair's affection for one another, he was somewhat surprised. He supposed that McCoy considered Kirk's life of more importance than Mr. Spock's because of his duty to protect his captain.

It was amazing how quickly he had Kirk's men under his thumb. Thrilling, rather. His months of careful planning had paid off.

To the guard on his right, he commanded, "Proceed."

Grunting in acknowledgment, the man strode for Kirk's bed, shouldering everyone aside.

Giotto whipped out his phaser and trained it on Tappan. "We'll move Kirk."

With a second grunt, the farmer hoisted a limp Kirk over his shoulder.

Tappan said, "My time is quite valuable, Mr. Giotto, and yours is running out. Let's end this game, shall we?"

Giotto's phaser never wavered. "You're not leaving the complex, Governor, unless we go with you."

Tappan tilted his head in mock-surprise. "Don't you trust me?"

"I never said I would trust you."

"Then I will stay," Tappan agreed all too happily. "Now, where would be the perfect room... Ah, yes!" He started for the exit, paused. "Do come along, Mr. Giotto. You'll want to see where I'm taking Kirk, no doubt."

For a second, something other than wariness flashed through the commander's eyes.

The corner of Tappan's mouth quirked.

Giotto's two lieutenants started after Tappan. Giotto paused to talk to McCoy, who made as if to follow the group.

McCoy bowed his head, rubbed his hands against his uniform pants. He stayed where he was as Giotto came abreast of the man carrying Kirk.

"What did you tell McCoy?" Tappan wanted to know.

Giotto cut a sideways glance at him. "That he wasn't needed." He paused. "Unless you think you can hold him off while you... take care of Kirk."

Tappan tended to agree. "No, you're quite right. We don't want him with us."

They left the ward behind.

* * *

Andy listened to the steady beep of the control monitors with a nervousness that could be seen in the tapping of his foot and occasional restless shifting. He was beyond tired, having not rested properly since he left the Enterprise and been subject to too many adrenaline crashes. Honestly, he had no idea how any of them were still on their feet, let alone in proper condition to win against the tireless maniac who called himself Governor of Tassos III.

He had watched Tappan on the security feed: his reactions, his observations and sly remarks. Andy wasn't an expert in body language but he found Tappan easier to read than he expected. The man had walked into the medical facility with a backup plan.

But the longer he kept his eyes on Tappan, the clearer it became that Andy wasn't going to figure out what that plan was. So he began to scan the perimeter of the building. That was when Andy saw him—the third man, unaccounted for, skulking by the locked hatch of the maintenance shaft.

Tappan had someone positioned at their back door. That boded ill. The only way someone could make it through the shielding and the hatch was if their systems experienced sudden power failure.

He contacted Danson right away.

" _Danson here. Andy, what's going on? It's dangerous to talk. I could give my position away!_ "

Andy insisted, "Take that risk. I think we invited in a Trojan Horse. Grab one of our science tricorders and set a scan for a circuit scrambler. The hardware is small and easy to hide under the clothes."

Danson cursed. " _I hope Kirk is prepared to hand out commendations like candy after this is over. Danson out._ "

Andy turned back to the monitor and stared at the huddled figure hiding between the bushes and the building. Would Danson find a tricorder in time? Not likely. Tappan already had Kirk in his hands.

The young man made a decision that shocked him a little. Gathering up his communicator and checking the power indicator on his phaser, he left the control room in a hurry.

* * *

"It's an office," Tappan pointed out politely as Giotto prowled the corners of the room.

"Why here?" demanded the officer.

Tappan told him, "I like the view."

Giotto stared him down for several seconds. Then he snapped to his female companion, "Let's go," and they left.

Tappan engaged the door's lock, knowing it wouldn't keep Giotto and his team out if they wanted to get in. Time to ensure they had other troubles to occupy their time.

He nodded to one of his guards.

The man removed a device from the lining of his jumpsuit. Prying back the small electrical panel by the door, he stuck the device among the circuits and wires. "Ready, Governor."

Tappan grinned and threw his communicator to the second guard. "Excellent. When Kirk wakes up, turn the communicator's dial counter-clockwise. It should light things up nicely."

* * *

Olivares glanced up as the lighting fixtures flickered in the corridor. "What was that?"

Frowning, Giotto turned in the direction of the patient ward. "I don't know." He tried to raise Kolarski in the control room but no one answered. "Stay here. If you see or hear anything suspicious, get Kirk out."

"He'll... not do anything stupid, right, Boss?"

Giotto didn't have the heart to answer that question. Halfway to the control room, he collided with Sandeep and Danson, who came around a corner at break-neck speed.

"Shit," Danson said when he saw that they had run into Giotto. "We're in trouble!"

* * *

Andy's stomach flip-flopped as the red emergency bulb over his head dimmed. He heard a buzzing that any engineer would recognize, the sound of power generators trying to accommodate for wildly fluctuating energy. Then the facility fell silent for about twenty seconds while his alternate generator worked overtime to maintain the basic operation systems—excluding shields and security—until the main generators rebooted and came back online.

In that small span of time, the hatch wheel at the end of the shaft began to turn. Andrew, lying on his belly in the tube, aimed his phaser directly at it.

The intruder crawled inside and pulled the hatch shut behind him.

Kolarski announced to his back, "You picked the wrong shaft to break into, mister!"

The guy barely had time to turn around before Andy stunned the hell out of him. Once convinced the man was out cold, the engineer wiped the sweat off his forehead and pumped his fist in the air. He had thwarted his first bad guy! Yeah!

Missions were terrifying to be certain, but maybe he was beginning to see why Captain Kirk had fondness for them. It was less exciting, of course, to drag the man's dead weight out of the shaftwork, but Andy figured the looks on his colleagues' faces would be well worth the effort.

* * *

Leonard was a nervous wreck on the inside. He had said he would die to protect Jim but turned around and handed his captain over to Tappan. He had done exactly what he had accused Spock of thinking about doing.

He shuddered as he recalled that Tappan had practically salivated at the thought of getting his hands on Kirk. They knew why. What Jim was about to endure could cripple him.

"Don't let Tappan tear him apart," Leonard said, laying his hand on the arm of his patient. "I'm counting on you, Spock."

An ironic choice of words, he thought, considering that he had torn into Jim for putting the Vulcan's life at risk. But those decisions had been made, the actions taken. Leonard could only encourage the pair to hold out as long as they could.

He had to hold out too. He had to solve this final puzzle in order for them to beat the odds. The pressure of it made him sweat.

"Geoff," he called into his comm, "are these all my medical logs?"

" _Every one, Dr. McCoy._ "

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I thought something was here, something I needed to remember."

" _Can I offer a suggestion?_ "

"God yes! Anything," he said, desperate. "I'll try anything!"

" _Bear with me. I'm going to talk you through a calming technique._ " M'Benga began to count, asking him to breathe steadily in and out. " _Just focus on your breathing._ "

Leonard tried. It was difficult. "This isn't something Vulcan by chance?" he half-joked.

" _It is._ "

He jumped slightly. "Damn, should have known. It won't work. Spock says I'm too emotional to know what calm is."

" _Then pretend you're Mr. Spock._ "

Leonard swallowed a laugh. He almost started to say something pithy but realized, as he glanced down at Spock and the hand he still had on the Vulcan's arm, that he owed it to his friend to try. "Help me out, hobgoblin," he murmured, stroking his thumb across Vulcan skin.

He closed his eyes and restarted the breathing exercise.

M'Benga's voice had a naturally hypnotic tone. Soon Leonard's mind began to clear.

" _Analyze it clinically_ ," the doctor urged Leonard. " _Emotions don't exist here. What must you accomplish? Name the stages._ "

"Treat, cleanse, restore." Pieces of data floated to Leonard's mind. He fit them together one by one to make a picture. "I can see the gap, Geoff. It's so familiar."

" _Don't force it. It will come. Let's go back. You named three words. Treat—how and what?_ "

"Treat the psychosis by blocking the chemical reactions in the brain."

" _Cleanse._ "

"Cleanse the body by eliminating the toxicity.

" _Restore._ "

"Restore normal functions of the body—of the mind."

" _You didn't say how, Doctor. How can you restore the mind?_ "

"Scientifically no one can," he said, feeling a swell of frustration.

" _Think critically. Who has tried? What did they try? Why did they fail?_ "

Leonard had a list already put together: names, dates, results. Silence came over the line after he finished reciting everything he knew. On instinct, he almost opened his eyes. "Geoff. Are you there?"

" _Thinking about what you just said, Doctor. What do those experiments have in common?_ "

"Besides their research topic? Nothing."

" _Not quite,_ " his second-in-command answered. " _Weren't their projects funded by a medical association?_ "

Leonard's eyes flew open, then. "The missing part of the population. Geoffrey, you're brilliant!"

He reread the subject lines of his logs with an eye for illegal experiments and one immediately jumped out at him.

"Tantalus," he said.

" _Dr. Adams' Neural Neutralizer,_ " M'Benga said. " _I read about that._ "

"He created a neural emitter that he claimed at low frequencies calmed deranged minds. It was all lies, of course. He was trying to accomplish the opposite—break the minds of the criminally insane so he could control them. Should have been a breakthrough in neural science when it was a complete disaster." He tapped his finger against the PADD's screen. "The article that touted Adams' device gave samples of the brainwave activity pre- and post-treatment. That's why it looked like he had succeeded." Leonard drew his finger across his lower lip in thought. "When I sedated Leta's son and Kirk, their cortical monitors showed much the same thing. But sedation isn't the answer."

M'Benga sounded excited. " _But could it be the key to an answer?_ "

"If we used a drug that did much the same—"

" _—and allowed normal response to verbal stimuli—_ "

"—it would maintain the brainwave activity of a non-agitated state. It's worth a try. Send me a list of what we have in supply that could do the trick."

Minutes later, they had reviewed that list and agreed on which drug to add to the basis of the serum Leonard had begun to create earlier in the lab. He gave M'Benga instructions on the molecular tweaks to ensure the compound was quickly and effectively soluble in the bloodstream. Then he warned, "Gonna need it hot off the press," and hurried from Spock's room.

His harried appearance caused quite a stir in the ward. Joran and another officer sat up, their phasers at the ready, looking about for the threat that should have chased Leonard out of Spock's room. The lieutenant who had volunteered for the initial treatment came out of his bed with fists raised.

Leonard snapped at them as he ran past, "Not yet!"

They didn't lay back down.

With efficiency, Leonard removed Leta's son from the sedation drip. He flipped open his communicator. "Geoff, you have just under five minutes before my patient wakes up and loses his mind."

Joran shuffled over to the doctor's side.

"What do you think you're doing, Lieutenant?" Leonard questioned sharply.

"In case he loses his mind, sir, I can help you hold him down."

Leonard cursed. Joran knew he couldn't refuse the offer. "Fine. But if you have a heart attack in the meantime, you're on your own!"

"I'm fine with that," the pilot agreed in an easy tone.

Leonard had to admit the man had gumption. He sighed and said into the communicator, "Status report."

" _Synthesizer at seventy percent. I have our transporter tech on standby._ " M'Benga commented wryly, " _When I took this assignment, I never imagined I would be participating in on-the-fly medical innovation inside a transporter room._ "

"Welcome to the Enterprise," Leonard deadpanned.

" _Eighty-two percent._ "

Ramses' head moved back and forth against his pillow. Joran took up a position on the opposite side of the biobed. Another lieutenant came to stand at the foot-board.

" _Ninety percent._ "

Ramses muttered something about Kirk and his mother then began to shake all over. The tendons along the sides of his neck stood out. The cortical monitor tripped the biobed alarm the moment his brainwave patterns became pulsating and erratic.

Leta's son shot straight up to sitting, his eyes wide-open.

Immediately Leonard and Joran pinned him back down. The second helper grabbed his legs.

The man's eyes rolled wildly from side to side. "Mother," he screeched, "Mother!"

"Geoff!" Leonard snapped. "We need the dose!"

" _Ninety-nine percent... one hundred! Ensign, take this!_ " Someone that sounded like Christine shouted, " _Engage!_ "

The hypospray appeared in mid-air next to McCoy's hand and dropped to the ground.

"Damn and blast! Joran, hold him!"

Leonard dove for hypospray as Joran flung his upper half across Ramses' chest. Ramses began to pound on the man's back with a fist. Leonard jabbed Ramses in the carotid artery with the full dosage.

Ramses fought them violently for another thirty seconds before he went limp. Leonard dragged Joran off the patient and helped him back to his biobed.

"Kid has a mean punch," moaned the pilot, one hand pressed against his sore back muscles.

"If you get out of this bed again," Leonard warned him, "you're going to find out that my right hook is meaner."

"Violence is not the answer," mumbled Joran, face-down on his bed covers.

"Doctor!"

Leonard hurried back to Leta's son. He was conscious, shivering—and terrified.

"W-What happened?"

Leonard felt tears in his eyes. He blinked them back. "Ramses, I'm Dr. McCoy... Kirk's McCoy."

Ramses swallowed. "Where's my—" He shook his head slightly and whispered, "Never mind. Captain Kirk. Is he... alive?"

"Yes," Leonard said. He had his answer. Into his communicator he said, "It's effective."

" _Thank the gods_ ," came M'Benga's reply. " _We'll start batch production right away._ "

"I don't feel very good," Ramses moaned.

Leonard laid a hand on the boy's arm. "You'll be all right." Kirk's plan took precedence but he told M'Benga nonetheless, "I need one more vial."

" _You've got it, Dr. McCoy. Stand by._ "

* * *

Captain Kirk was a pathetic creature. After he shook off McCoy's tranquilizer, he charged Tappan twice. Each time, Augustus took great pleasure in zapping him until he could barely crawl across the floor. The men dumped Kirk into a chair in front of a window, but Tappan stopped them from tying him down.

He bent to Kirk's level and said, "I can be reasonable, Captain Kirk. I only want to help you."

Kirk shook as he muttered the word "never" over and over again.

"Never what?" Tappan pressed.

Kirk lifted his face and fixed a hateful stare upon him. His explanation had no coherency.

Yes, Kirk was truly lost in his mind. He was hallucinating.

Tappan circled behind him and whispered in his ear, "You've lost control."

Kirk shuddered.

"They're coming for you, Kirk. Do you see them?"

The man dragged his hands down the sides of his face.

"Look," Tappan urged. "Look at them!" He forced Kirk's head up, made him face the writhing darkness outside. He had noticed this little side office during his earlier escape and thought it had the perfect vantage point, which was why he had ordered the camp to be set up on this side of the building.

"They're restless," he whispered. "They want their revenge. And you know why... don't you?"

Kirk growled, tried to pull away.

Tappan squeezed the man's jaw painfully hard and said with more force, "Don't you—" He put his mouth against Kirk's ear. "—Kodos!"

* * *

" _—Kodos!_ "

The landscape of Jim Kirk's mind shattered. He fell through the shards, helplessly frozen by his grief. He saw the thin, starving faces of relatives, strangers, friends; saw the crushed bodies of men and women who had been trampled during an attempt to flee when the soldiers opened fire; watched his uncle's happy face twist into a grotesquerie by sudden death. Sightless eyes, everywhere.

Jim was not the Executioner. Jim was not Kodos. ...Was he?

He fell and fell. The fall was endless and agonizing. When he reached the bottom, if he did, he wouldn't be anyone. There should not be anything except reprieve for a soul that had been in pain for far too long.

Little by little, the falling slowed down until Jim was gently floating in nothingness. It was neither cold or warm. It just was.

 _Where is this?_ he wondered.

The nothingness had a voice, and the voice knew his name: _Safety. Jim._

 _Jim, yes. My father called me James. How could I be Kodos?_

 _James Kirk._ The voice spoke the name like a caress. _Remember._

The images came, then, memories of a man with tawny hair and kaleidoscope eyes. The man laughed as he moved a pawn across a chessboard. The man pressed his face atop another man's shoulder, looking stunned, gutted, as somewhere close-by a horn blared and people cried out. The man sat in a chair built for a captain, his expression pensive. Then he turned and looked directly at Jim. The hard line of his jaw softened. He smiled and said—

 _Mr. Spock._ Jim remembered. _Spock!_

 _Yes. I am here._

 _Spock... I'm not sure what happened._

White streaked across the nothingness like a flash of lightning. It was anger, although Jim himself did not feel it.

 _Tappan,_ was all the voice said.

 _I don't understand. I remember... McCoy, the shot... A stimulant, I think. You took control again—then, together, you and I were in control. I played along while Tappan taunted me, but he said... I..._

 _Jim, there are some scars against which I cannot protect you._

Yes, Jim knew he had scars. They ran deep. But what Spock said wasn't quite the truth.

 _Maybe you couldn't protect me in that moment, Spock, but you did save me. Thank you._

 _You must return._

 _Show me how._

The nothingness grew bright, then long and narrow, stretched thin like a tunnel of starlight when traveling at warp speed. As Jim felt the tug from the anchor in his own mind, he also felt sadness at leaving Spock behind.

Then Spock's awareness joined him, Jim realized he wouldn't go alone.

* * *

Kirk roused at the slap to his face. He had cut out like light at the mention of Kodos' name.

In that moment Tappan had feared he had ruined his plan by pushing too far. But his source couldn't be wrong. James Tiberius Kirk was a survivor of Tarsus IV. History proved that no one lived through genocide without survivor's guilt and, in some cases, severe mental derangement.

The captain lifted his head up and stared at Tappan for five full seconds, eyes blazing furiously as they had during the confrontation in the silo, before his chin suddenly dropped back to his chest.

"Look up, Kirk," he commanded.

Kirk slowly raised his head—and howled like a madman, rocking in his chair with laughter. "They're here," he cackled.

Tappan stepped back from him, unnerved.

"But they won't get me!"

Tappan licked his lips. Yes, this was the instability he wanted from Kirk. "One of them is already inside the facility. The lights flickered, remember? He slipped in and now he's coming for you."

Kirk leapt from his chair, crying, "Where?!"

The man started towards the door, stopped, backed up. He went for one of Tappan's men, tackled him. Kirk gained the upper hand and knocked him out. He staggered to his feet, but before he could charge the other man, Tappan raised a hand.

Then, smiling, he tossed a communicator at Kirk's feet. "How will you stop the man coming to kill you, Kirk? How will you stop all of them?"

Kirk fell to his knees and scrambled for the communicator, fumbled it open in rage and panic.

"Scotty," he panted harshly, "get me out of here!"

The comm hissed.

Kirk twisted the dial to another dial and shouted, "SCOTTY!" beating one fist on the floor.

" _Capt'n?_ "

"Get me out! Now!"

" _Capt'n, the transporter is nae operable—_ "

Tappan flung out an arm towards the window and backed up as if in horror. "I see them!" he cried.

Kirk froze for a second then yelled, "Fire!"

The officer on the opposite end of the channel gasped, shocked, " _Captain?_ "

"I order you!" Kirk screamed. "Fire on the planet! Fire at will! GET THEM ALL!"

Tappan's face split into a victorious grin.

* * *

On the Bridge of the Enterprise, Scotty looked at the others on duty and winked before he said, "You heard the Captain, Mr. Chekov. Launch our little surprise."

Chekov grinned. "Vith pleasure, sir!"

* * *

Augustus hurried to the window, "I tried to stop you. I tried and failed. And you won't remember any of this, whether it's true or not. All these people, Kirk, slated to die at your hands."

Jim Kirk had backed all the way across the room to the far wall. There he stayed, slumped over, head cradled in his hands, muttering.

An utter mess.

Tappan gripped the sill of the window.

The Enterprise wouldn't fire like their captain had demanded, but that was hardly the point. He had what he needed. All of the colonists did. They would come to thank him, to treat him with the respect he deserved rather than with suspicion and distrust as they had done since the colony's inception. If loyalty had been willingly extended to him, he wouldn't have had to go this far. He wouldn't have had to twist their minds, make them believe lies where there should have been truth.

Well, such regrets mattered little now. Freedom was upon them. And his dream to rule.

Crazy Kirk made a snort. His shoulders quivered. " _Fire!_ " he whispered.

Tappan chuckled. Kirk was useless now, but he should at least be tied up and presented to the investigators who came to address the charges he would make against Starfleet. As he turned from the window, a flash of light in the clouds caught his eye. The pinpoint became a streak, like a star falling from the sky.

The star slowed down and made a controlled landing. A drone detached, leaving behind a glowing pod, and flew off into the night.

Augustus pressed his face close to the window in order to see what it really was.

As he looked on, panel by panel the pod opened and exhaled a strange fog. The colonists in the camp simply stared—until one of them began to choke on the gas and dropped to the ground. The thought of attack snapped their tenuous hold on reality. En masse they ran for the pod, screaming and brandishing various farm tools as weapons. None of them made more than halfway across the lawn. Within minutes, their enraged screams turned to whimpers and crying.

"What is this?" Tappan shook as he backed up from the window. "What's happening?"

Kirk's head came up. His shoulders, Tappan realized belatedly, had been quivering because he had been quietly laughing. He had the look of a man who had been to hell and back but had become stronger for it.

When he met Tappan's eyes, he ceased to laugh.

Kirk lifted the communicator still clutched in his hand, flipped it open, and said in a voice at odds with his disheveled appearance, "Mr. Scott, prepare to beam three aboard. Coordinates seven mark nine-two-six-one. Transport directly to Decontamination on my orders."

Tappan stared. "Kirk... It isn't possible. You're sane!"

"You are almost correct, Mr. Tappan," said the man. "I am not Captain Kirk."

Tappan's mouth dropped open but he could think of nothing to say.

"Now, Mr. Scott."

Kirk closed the communicator as Tappan and his men faded away. He lowered his head to his chin. Sounding infinitely weary, he said to the empty room, "Tell Dr. McCoy... the promise... was kept."


	16. Epilogue

**Parts Fourteen and Fifteen and Epilogue posted together. Be certain you have read Fourteen and Fifteen first!**

* * *

Closing his book, James Kirk set it atop his bed covers and crossed his cabin with the desire for a glass of something to help him sleep. He had been released from Sickbay with the explicit order to rest for twenty-four hours. As he glanced at the wall chronometer on his right, the man noted grimly that fifteen of those twenty-four hours were still left.

The three days under the watchful eyes of McCoy's staff had been tortuously boring. Jim knew he should be ecstatic to be back in his own quarters; yet he found his boredom was not alleviated simply by the change in venue. He missed McCoy's fussing, and he missed the tireless campaign of the neighboring Vulcan who tried to convince Leonard to let him return to duty. Leonard had ignored both Spock and Kirk's demands with a bullheadedness that only physicians had.

Perhaps the stay in Medical had been entertaining after all.

Before Kirk reached the cabinet that housed a single bottle of brandy (the expensive kind typically reserved for celebratory events), someone knocked on his cabin door. Only one person in particular ever knocked instead of using the comm system. He pressed the button to activate the door speaker and said, "Come in."

The door slid back but Dr. Leonard McCoy hesitated on the threshold, holding a tray of drinks in front of him. "Hi. Mind having some company?"

Jim came forward, pleased that Leonard hadn't waited too long to visit. "Never if it's you." He smiled as he took the tray and placed it by his desk. "Am I allowed to have this?"

"Only if it's a recommendation by your doctor." Leonard uncorked a carafe and poured two glasses. Handing one glass to Kirk, he warned, "Drink slowly."

Jim obligingly took a sip. He enjoyed the liquor's burn on the way down. Securing an arm around McCoy's back, he led the man to the nearby couch. They settled there side by side. Jim let his fingers linger on the bare skin of Leonard's arm. As much as he enjoyed the drink, he could think of a better way for them to warm up.

But McCoy had a pensive twist to his mouth which meant he wasn't visiting just for a drink and a cuddle.

Jim retracted his hand and sighed as he leaned back. Draining the bourbon in one swallow promptly set him to choking.

Leonard tsked and took the glass away from him. "Can't even follow doctor's orders."

"I was just thinking I might need to fortify myself." Jim coughed one last time and cleared his throat. "What's on your mind?"

It was Leonard's turn to sigh. "I was debating on whether or not I should talk to you."

"You came here."

"Point taken." The doctor tapped the ring on his pinky finger against his tumbler. "Nothing's changed. Spock stopped talking to me after I released him to active duty."

Jim waited a moment to think on that before questioning, "Same issue?"

Leonard glanced sideways at Kirk. "Not sure."

"Should I speak with him?"

Leonard leaned forward and set both their glasses on the coffee table. "All along it's me he has been avoiding, not you, Jim. I was—still am—the problem."

"I take full responsibility," Jim said. "I should have addressed this before Tassos III. It wasn't right of me to leave you two behind knowing you were at odds."

"You had other things on your mind."

"None as important as you," Jim replied, placing his hand on McCoy's arm.

Leonard ducked his head a little and smiled.

Jim stroked the man's arm. "Bones... I'll handle it."

"That's all right, Jim. This is personal, not professional."

"Personal issues can undermine professional relationships. We don't want it to come to that."

"It won't. At worst," Leonard said more quietly, sadly, "I'll lose a friend."

Jim had a different opinion on the significance of that cost but didn't think McCoy was in the right frame of mind to listen. So he waited without saying anything, aware that Leonard was working up the courage to tell him what else, beyond Spock's distance, truly bothered him.

The man sighed. "Spock was kind enough to leave some things out of his report on Tassos III: my insubordination, my lack of willingness to compromise or cooperate, and my inability to separate the personal from the professional." He stared down at his hands. "I was emotionally compromised, Jim. He knew it, I knew it, and yet there have been no repercussions."

Jim was surprised. "You expect a reprimand."

Leonard looked at him. "How can I be your chief medical officer when I can't remain impartial under pressure?"

"Bones, I don't want you to be impartial. I wouldn't survive a day if you were."

"It's not that simple."

Jim shook his head. "Should it be? This crew is a family. It's inevitable that we matter to each other at least a little." He wrapped his hands around the man's shoulders. "If you think you can't always be objective, how do you think I feel about you? What should I do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Part of me wants to beg you to take early retirement or a research assignment on some nice, quiet planet."

Leonard snorted.

Jim smiled wryly. "But I know you wouldn't."

"Who else would keep you alive?"

"Exactly. You're needed here. _I_ need you. Spock knows that, Bones, and he would never fault you for it."

Leonard complained, "Then why in blazes is he being such a pain in the ass?"

"It must be something else," Jim said, for he already had an inkling as to that answer. He drew McCoy closer. "I have a theory we can test. I am going to kiss you now, Bones." Jim covered Leonard's mouth with his own before Leonard could refuse.

When the door to Kirk's cabin buzzed, the couple found it difficult to separate. "Ignore that," McCoy urged, sliding a hand under his lover's tunic.

The person pressing the buzzer became insistent.

"Come in," Jim called.

Leonard scrambled to make himself presentable.

Jim was leaning back on the couch cross-legged and relaxed when Spock entered his quarters. The Vulcan's stare upon him was intense enough to be considered a glare.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Spock?" he inquired innocently.

"Captain, I am not amused."

Negligently, Jim waved a hand. "Since you're here, why don't you join us?"

"Jim," Leonard hissed.

Jim deliberately reached out and dragged a thumb across McCoy's lower lip, then hooked the man by the back of the neck and made as if to pull him in for another kiss.

"Jim," Spock spoke in a strangled voice, "that is enough."

Jim released McCoy and sprawled back against the couch cushions in victory.

Silence enveloped the room as Leonard looked between the flushed Vulcan and smug captain. "What am I missing?" he asked them at length.

Time to force the truth. "The connection worked both ways. I have no doubt Spock learned some interesting things about me—as I did about him." He kept his gaze centered on McCoy. "I know what you think of Bones, Spock. What you think _about_ Bones."

"Jim, give me a clue here," Leonard begged.

"Sadly it isn't my secret to tell—although I did gather the impression that one or two confessions were interrupted." He chuckled. "McCoy won't figure it out on his own, Spock. One of his shortcomings is failing to notice how much he is appreciated—" He flicked his gaze to the Vulcan. "—so tell him."

Spock approached the couch, locking his hands behind his back, which Jim now recognized as a sign of Spock's attempt to restrain himself. The Vulcan wanted to touch McCoy that badly. It was an instinct of Spock's half-human nature, something that greatly disconcerted Spock as a Vulcan. While he chose restraint, that Jim could and did touch Leonard easily and vice versa was a source of envy and a sore point.

Jim, who could be a bastard now and then, had no qualms about capitalizing on such knowledge. He had decided that the three of them had danced around each other long enough. Since the moment Jim had glimpsed Spock's secret, he had known what he wanted.

And it looked like it was up to him to get them there. "Spock."

It was the push that the Vulcan needed. Spock lowered his hands to his sides. He sounded like he might be in pain when he said, "I fully apologize for admonishing you for your affection for Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy. I did not understand until I felt the same."

"For Jim," Leonard surmised in his simple way.

"For you," Spock corrected.

Oh, the look on Bones' face. Jim placed an elbow on the couch arm and propped up his chin. "Go on," he told the Vulcan.

Spock slanted a look at him that promised retribution later. Jim just smiled.

It was McCoy, pale as a ghost, who looked from Spock to Jim and back again. "This isn't a very funny joke."

Spock stiffened slightly. "Doctor, I told you that Vulcans do not have a sense of humor."

Leonard snapped, "Vulcans also don't do coy very well!" He visibly struggled against something else he wanted to say and in the end apologized.

Spock's exhale signified resignation. "Why would you apologize?"

"Because I've handled this incorrectly." McCoy avoided looking at Jim. "I should thank you, Mr. Spock. I know how difficult it is for you to admit to an emotion. I appreciate what you said, and I think you meant it."

"Obviously I meant what I said, Doctor, otherwise I would not have said it."

Leonard met the Vulcan's gaze. "But do you understand what you said?" he challenged gently. "It's true there is a certain affection between friends, Spock—"

 _Oh, Bones_ , Jim thought.

"—but it isn't the same affection between lovers. Pardon my saying this, but you may not be experienced enough to know that difference."

Jim almost broke his silence, but he knew that Spock and McCoy had to own the outcome of this discussion.

"Leonard," Spock sounded uncomfortable, "it was you who asked me when my feelings for Jim changed. You accepted my admission then. Why can you not accept it now?"

"I'm dating the man you love. I've told you that we're happy. Isn't it possible that you are projecting what you feel for one of us onto the other in error?"

"Anything is possible," Spock stated.

Jim held his breath.

"But there has been no error. The only proof I can offer you is our history. Do you know precisely when I became your friend? I do not. It was a transition that eluded me until the moment I discovered any dislike I might have once associated with you no longer existed. In the same vein, I once again experienced a startling realization, more recently. To be exact—" Spock paused, and his dark eyes glinted. "—less than one solar day ago in the Brig. I had known in advance that you would attempt to protest the circumstances through a show of solidarity. What wasn't obvious to me, and what I had to ruminate upon, was why I made no attempt to stop you beforehand. The answer became clearer as events progressed. You tried to force my hand; I lent it to you instead. You tried to push me away so I offered to come closer. You tried to leave, and I followed. I did these things willingly and without shame. I can give no explanation for this phenomena beyond that there is one other person in this universe who inspires the same reactions—and we both agree that what I feel for him is extraordinary. Therefore one must conclude the same applies to you."

Jim couldn't stop smiling. It was obvious Leonard was taken aback.

Spock cocked his head. "In the spirit of full discourse I will add that it has been terribly disconcerting to learn insubordination can be attractive."

Jim covered his mouth.

Leonard choked. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Consider it as a testament to your ability to sway me against logic."

After a moment, McCoy's mouth curved. "I suppose I like the sound of that."

Jim groaned. "You two! I'm trying to be patient but you're killing me here. Why don't we skip to the good part?"

Leonard rolled his eyes in Jim's direction. "What good part would that be?"

"The part where you convince Spock to share the couch with us."

"Jim Kirk—Casanova," McCoy retorted dryly. "Spock, take my advice: stay far away from this man if you want to preserve your dignity. He's generally up to no good."

"Bones," Jim said, both amused and chastised.

"You're the one who can't hold your horses, Jim. Not everybody operates on Kirkian time."

"I tend to agree." Spock came around the couch and took a seat in an adjacent chair.

Jim eyed the distance to Spock, supposing he had shot himself in the foot.

"Jim wishes he had not been so brash," Spock remarked.

Leonard perked up. "Not surprising. But, Spock, how can you tell? I thought the—" He tapped his forehead. "—was gone."

"Technically the connection was severed at the time I broke the meld."

"I still feel a presence," Jim admitted. "It isn't Spock, per se. I would call it a residual awareness of when our minds were joined."

"Will the effect fade?" Leonard wanted to know.

Spock considered them with a grave air. "Under normal circumstances, that should be the case. However, I fear our meld was far from average. During the time Jim and I were connected, the link periodically grew stronger and began to... seal itself."

Jim recalled those instances. "I had wondered if I did something harmful to you."

"I assure you no harm was done. On the contrary, if I had allowed it, we could have permanently bonded our minds—"

Leonard looked alarmed. "That sounds harmful to me!"

Spock concluded, still watching Jim, "—on the condition that we convinced Dr. McCoy to join us."

Leonard's mouth opened and stayed open.

Jim crossed one knee over the other. "That's interesting. Is it because we both love him?"

"Jim!"

"In a manner of speaking. One might say our affections... resonate. The harmony which is created is the basis of a permanent joining." Spock looked to McCoy. "Of course, I am only speaking of theory. It would not work if Leonard cannot reciprocate adequately."

Leonard looked ready to argue but all of a sudden turned his attention on Jim. "Jim, is it true?"

He couldn't take anything back now, nor did he want to. "Yes, I love Spock."

Leonard was unfazed. "I already knew half the story. I just wasn't certain if you felt the same as he did—no, that's not entirely true. I had an inkling that you did. He means so much to you, Jim. I hope you know if you asked me to stand aside, I would."

Jim sat up. "At what point did I say I didn't want you?"

"You didn't but—"

Spock interrupted. "Both of you are as frustrating as you are endearingly human."

"Whoa there," Jim said. "I am hardly frustrating!"

"Jim, it is you who insisted on this confrontation," Spock countered, strangely serene. "Do you regret it?"

Jim's eyes flashed. "Not if it gets me what I want."

Spock inclined his head ever-so-slightly. "And what do you want?"

"McCoy, you, and myself." He grinned. "Just like this."

"Then, please, assist me in my seduction of Dr. McCoy, not hinder it."

"I thought I was!"

Leonard stared at them like they had lost their minds. "Now hold on. Y'all can't spring this...this threesome on me and expect that I'll go along! I need time to think things through."

Jim sighed and shook his head in mock-sadness. "How much time should we give him, Mr. Spock?"

"As little as possible," Spock advised. "Another of the Doctor's shortcomings: he thinks too deeply when matters are simple."

McCoy sputtered.

Jim laughed.

Spock's eyes gleamed at them. "If my proposition seems offensive, you should consider an appropriate punishment."

Jim began laughing so hard he almost rolled off the couch and to the floor.

Leonard pursed his mouth. He glared first at the Vulcan then at the laughing Kirk before he pointed his finger to the empty spot next to him. "You both deserve punishment. Get over here," he ordered Spock. "First things first. I'm going to show you why Jim isn't in charge of this relationship."

Spock gracefully rose from his chair.

"Finally," Jim said. He glanced at the chronometer. "Bones. Spock." He offered them his most charming smile. "I have a feeling we are going to accomplish great things in the next fifteen hours."

Leonard turned to Jim, mischief in his eyes. "Lesson one," he declared as Spock settled by him, "how to thwart Jim Kirk's ego."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Shall I take notes?"

Jim had a moment to wonder if he had overestimated his ability to handle McCoy and Spock at once. Then he decided he would survive regardless, for the only ability which mattered was being able to love them both—and love them, he truly did.

* * *

"Hey," said Andy as he set down a tray on the cafeteria table and took a seat among colleagues, "is it always like this?"

"Like what?" questioned the officer opposite him, Danson, as he bit into a breakfast sandwich.

"Life goes on like we didn't nearly die on that colony."

"You get used to," Danson replied at the same time that Olivares rolled her eyes.

Her "Welcome to Team Red-shirts" had a bite of sarcasm.

Joran, next to Kolarski, sipped coffee. "Some of us don't wear red shirts."

"I guess it doesn't matter," mused Andy. "We're all crew, so we all face the same dangers. I understand Mr. Scott's 'space is dangerous' speech a lot better now." He poked a fork into his scrambled eggs. "What's Sandeep staring at?"

Blanca snorted. Danson grinned. Sandeep started, muttered, and hunkered over his plate.

Andy twisted around at the waist, casting about for the person or persons that had been of interest to his friend. He spotted a group across the hall that he personally found entertaining. "Oh, hey! It's the Captain, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy."

Danson leaned forward and whispered, "Notice how they're sitting so close to each other."

Sandeep jabbed the lieutenant with his elbow. "Shh! Don't announce it!"

Andy didn't understand. "Announce what? They're eating together. They usually share their meals."

The woman among them shook her head. "Andy, you will learn."

"I want to learn now. What am I missing?"

As the other red-shirts laughed, Joran transferred a small plate of fruit to Kolarski's tray, saying in his good-natured way, "Glad you survived your first run, kid."

Andy patted the man's back. "I'm happy you did too."

Everyone at the table exchanged smiles then, and in charity with one another resumed eating.

* * *

 _one week later_

Leonard walked onto the Bridge at precisely the right moment. His captain beckoned him to the lower platform and handed him a small padd. "The results of Nogura's investigation," Kirk said.

Leonard took in the open missive. It was to the point, which was no surprise. The admiral who had written it didn't like to mince words. But as Leonard read the last sentence, he frowned. To the officer who had joined him by Kirk's chair, he questioned, "Have you read this?"

"Affirmative, Doctor."

Leonard handed the device back to his captain. "Violations of the Code of Conduct? To say I'm appalled would be an understatement. There isn't even mention of this bastard's trial date! Am I to assume we won't need to be there?"

Kirk and Spock exchanged a quick glance.

"There won't be a trial, Bones."

Leonard had to grab the top of the captain's chair. "What!" he blurted out.

"Tappan has been committed. Leta was exonerated at her court-martial hearing."

"Jim...!"

"I know, Bones, I know."

Leonard had a horrifying thought. "Is this because of my assessment? I know I said Tappan presented the appearance of mental instability but..."

"Every action he took was very clearly calculated," Spock finished. "Doctor, this is through no fault of your own. We underestimated the network supporting his—and likely Ambassador Leta's—ambitions. Moreover, Legal's recommendation to close the case quietly was tantamount to a command."

"They can't shut us up! Tell Nogura to extend the investigation!"

"It's over, Bones," Jim said gently. "I don't like it, but I can't argue with it unless I intend to present hearsay to Command and my head along with it."

"What about the infected grain? What about—?" He swallowed the word _Tarsus_.

Jim sighed through his nose. "There were no security breaches in the Archives—no documented ones, anyway," he pointed out. "If I had the authority to take this further, I would. I'm sorry."

Leonard shook his head. "It's not your fault either, Jim." He looked at the tiny planet in the center of the main viewer. "What happens to Tassos III now?"

"Once the on-site medical personnel complete their triage response, the colony will be evacuated and discontinued," Spock replied.

Leonard's shoulders rounded down. "In other words, this all goes in an incident report and sits inside someone's desk drawer. No one cares if one man's ambitions destroyed a thousand dreams. Damn it, nothing good came out of what happened down there."

Kirk and Spock stared at him strangely.

"On the contrary, Dr. McCoy," Spock said, "you created a viable treatment for the _Claviceps purpurea_ strain. In the future, no one need suffer from such an affliction again."

"Then why do I still feel like we lost? The bad guys walked away thinking Starfleet is in the business of overthrowing governments."

"They think that way because they have no understanding of who we are," Jim said. "Don't worry, Bones. Another opportunity will come along to prove them wrong."

Spock inclined his head ever-so-slightly. "Indeed. One or two agents within the organization have made it known they would gladly volunteer their efforts in a private investigation. When the next opportunity arrives, we shall be better prepared." He paused. "I took the liberty of briefing my father. The Vulcan Council was greatly offended to learn that people of Tassos III could be so misused and discarded. They reviewed the productivity reports from years past, concluded the colony had a sustainable profit despite poor management, and have offered to sponsor a replacement colony."

"That seems logical, Mr. Spock," Kirk said with a tiny smile.

Leonard's eyes blazed as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "Logical, Jim? As if those people haven't endured enough... Now they have to pay their taxes to the Vulcans!"

Spock merely looked at the doctor, who waggled his finger with the claim, "Nosiest race I ever did meet!"

The Vulcan pivoted on his heel and returned to the Science station.

Leonard followed him. "Where're you going, Spock? I'm winning this argument!"

Uhura shook her head. She and Mr. Scott shared a smile.

Jim faced forward in his chair, drawing everyone's attention to the center of the Bridge once more. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "we have our next assignment. Chart a course for the Regula system. Warp factor three."

The helmsmen replied in unison, "Aye, Captain!"

The starship Enterprise sailed on.

 **The End**


End file.
